


One Night Only

by Slave2Writing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slave2Writing/pseuds/Slave2Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma recounts backwards the events leading up to her one night stand with Regina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell Me Everything (A Prologue of Sorts)

_When the morning came, I looked all around the room,_

_And I had no clue, what it was I did or didn't do._

_Then all in a flash, my memory came back around, reached out my hands_

_And you were nowhere to be found, nowhere 'round._

_\- One Night Only (The March) by Trombone Shorty_

Regina's eyes open before she wakes up. They watch the light, a slow river stream of white dust sinking into peeling yellow wallpaper, pushing off, reflected back toward her. There's a weight settled comfortably over her waist, someone's breath on her neck, but her mind is still caught between slumber and the peeling vision before her. She knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that her bedroom wallpaper is shades of red and white, mahogany french doors, wide windows with apple tree branches and leaves brushed against the glass. She knows, too, that her pillows are made of velvet, the sheets wrapped around her body made of silk, and the mattress soft enough to sink into. It makes it hard to get up, but it's worth it.

This morning, the mattress is lumpy and the pillows crushed beneath her face smell stale with crumbs decorating the edges. Her mind struggles to comprehend, pull out of the dreamworld, her eyes slowly blinking, gazing at the peeling puce colored wallpaper.

_I am in bed._  Regina thinks, the breath on the back of her neck warm and moist, deep and even.  _But this is not my bedroom._  She ponders the meaning of that resurfaced knowledge, drawing all the facts from it that she can.  _I am in someone else's bed._  Thin white sheets crinkle around her body as she moves, she can feel last night's bruises on her wrists and breasts, and a few darkened fragments of memory flash brightly in her head as she sits up a little in bed and turns to look at the person beside her.

_Oh god, no._  Regina is too shocked to scream in horror, her jaw dropping, gaping at the sleeping form of the sheriff. Emma Swan's face is partially obstructed by the curtain of blonde curls tumbling into the twist of thin sheets, her thick blanket spilling onto the floor, fought off the bed sometime during the night. Her arm, pale like cream, drapes heavily over Regina's raised twisted body, dark eyes flared in panic at the sight of her rival.  _When did we - how did I - I - no! This did not - could not - no!_

The evidence suddenly culminates, sudden scents and sensations rippling through the air, meant to assault her sensibilities. She smells the heavy musk of her own sex, can taste something bitter in her mouth, can feel the bruises and scars of nail marks, hickies decorating her neck and chest, and as she looks down she sees loose strands of golden hair curled across her skin.

Her vision sparks light, a desperate fury making her dizzy. Regina bows her head, gripping it in her hands, fighting off the sudden headache.  _I did not. I did not. I could not have. It doesn't make any sense, this defies logic._  Cold, practical, rhythmic, predictable logic. The kind that keeps her guarded, keeps her smart, keeps her safe.  _I must have been drinking._  But the only thing on her breath tastes of something stale, yet formerly sweet, apple juice boiled on her tongue, sour droplets drained, sucked out, dripping down the back of her throat. _I must have been out of my mind._  Yes, yes, clearly something in her mind was fractured, damaged.

Last night is a blur of color amidst the darkness. She can feel cold brick wall pressed against her back, her arms locked in a bruising hold, the mingled chorus of breathless laughter as she's pulled up the stairs, shoved into the warmth of blinding light, so bright it becomes darkness, falling backwards, her mouth pressed against, crushed beneath a potent, carnivorous force.

"...puddles..." The sheriff suddenly stirs, murmuring into the stale pillows until a snore overtakes her. Regina starts, nearly jumping out of bed, dark eyes widened, gazing with real fear at Emma Swan's form, but the woman remains asleep.

_Have to go. I have to leave right now. I can't be here when she - oh god. Oh god - Henry!_  How could she have been so irresponsible to have done... whatever she did... and left Henry all alone last night? Did he eat dinner, or had she abandoned him even before then? At the very least he was alone now, completely defenseless, open to the maniacal plots of anyone in Storybrooke. _I have to get to him. If anything ever happened to him..._  Dark eyes flash with sudden rage, Regina's gaze turning to direct its attention toward the sleeping sheriff beside her.  _I don't know what you did to me, but if Henry is hurt, then I'm holding you responsible._

Still anxious not to wake the sheriff up, Regina cradles the woman's wrist more gently than she cares to, lifting it slowly up and quickly sidling from beneath the sheets, turning around to swing her legs off the bed, landing on the cold floor. Cold sharp tingles of thrill shoot up her skin, she bites her lip to keep from gasping. Still gently, she lets the sheriff's arm fall limp back onto the mattress, a slight creak as she stands, her weight departing, and as the thin, crisp sheets fall away she realizes she's fully naked, brown nipples stiffening from the cold.  _Where are my clothes?_

Every detail revealed to her makes the whole baffling situation more and more real, but Regina tries her best to ignore the items in the sheriff's room, only looking for her own articles of clothing. Her heels and purple lace underwear she finds just beneath the bed, along with a small box of cigarettes and a lighter.  _She better not be smoking near Henry._  Her nose wrinkles at the idea of such a filthy habit, and yet the sudden image of the sheriff reclining backwards in a chair, inhaling smoke and exhaling it in a sweet puff, her pale lips curving as she sends the smoke toward Regina's face...  _Clothes. Where are the rest of my clothes?_

She does her best to stay quiet, and it seems the sheriff is a deep sleeper, something Regina finds surprising.  _What if I finally allowed Henry to sleep over, only to find you overslept while he was up watching television, or making prank phone calls or ran away? What if a burglar broke in and stole Henry? You wouldn't even know it, you incompetent fool!_ She grinds her teeth together, stifling incoherent shouts and accusations she wants to lash like a whip against the sheriff's sleeping form, cream skin revealed in patches where the sheets twist and divide.

Regina's eyes linger on a small smudge on the sheriff's neck, recognizing a shade of vibrant plum lipstick that decorate her own lips. Her eyes drift down the sheriff's back, Regina's hands twitching with the sudden familiar feel of soft, muscled skin beneath her palms. Down to the feet where Regina's eyes rest and something flares at the forefront of her mind. The image of her lips bearing down, pressed against pale feet, her tongue darting out, heated and wet, moist around a small toe as she begins to suck...

_Oh my god._  Regina stumbles out of the memory, turning with renewed desperation to seek her clothes. She finds a shirt and buttons it up, too impatient to seek her bra, the navy blue material teasing her breasts. She looks around for either a skirt or slacks, unable to remember what it was she wore last night, when suddenly there's a loud  _creak_  of another door, and Regina stiffens, quiet and still, unmoving, listening as someone else awakens and walks through the apartment.

_God dammit! God dammit!_  Regina can't think about this, can't take the time to rationalize and make excuses for the perverted insanity that has apparently taken place. To know that her miserable, worthless stepdaughter was only feet away from the atrocity Regina engaged in with her stepdaughter's daughter was...  _Clothes. I have to put on clothes._

Out of patience, desperate to go, Regina creeps toward the sheriff's drawers, crouching at the bottom, pulling one open and drawing out dark blue jeans. The sheriff is a little taller, and Regina struggles as she pulls the jeans on, rolling up the cuffs a few times. The sheriff is also slightly thinner, and Regina winces as she walks, the seam cutting into her hips. She discovers another hickey on her inner thigh as she moves, the jeans too tight and too loose in alternative places.

_Oh god, Henry, I'm almost out of this hell. Please be all right._ The sheriff doesn't have a clock in her room and at some point during the night Regina had lost her watch. She has no idea if Henry should have already woken up. She listens for a moment for the familiar  _tick tick_  but it's suddenly drowned out by the rush of water racing through the air.

_Shower!_  Regina steps lightly, the heels tapping on the floor, pressing her ear to the bedroom door, hesitantly curling her fingers around the knob, gently creaking it open, peeking out into what little she can see of the kitchen and living room.  _She must be in the shower. This is my chance._

Regina takes a breath, glancing back at the still sleeping form of Sheriff Swan, steels her nerves, opens the door wider, and then makes a break for it. The wooden front door rushes her vision, her senses are enflamed, she reaches forward, grasping for freedom, ready to hurl the nightmare confusion behind her.

"Oh!"

Regina crashes into the door, spinning, throwing herself off-balance as she skids on stray carpet into the wood, her shoulder receiving the brunt of the smash, turning with wild eyes toward Mary Margaret who's just exited the bathroom.

For a moment there's silence as each woman stares at the other. There's no mirror but Regina can feel the sweat painting her honey brown skin, the short slightly curled strands of dark hair mussed and sticking out in several different directions, her lips parted, vibrant plum smudged against her chin, just beneath her nose, painted over the small thin scar slit into her lip.

It takes her a moment to straighten up, lips spreading into a cold, cordial smile, gaining confidence from the sight of Mary Margaret clad in baby blue pajamas patterned by brown teddybears hugging pink hearts.

"Good morning." It is the first time she speaks out loud, and Regina is slightly startled by the hoarse sound that emits itself from her throat.

"Regina." Mary Margaret speaks her name with unrestrained surprise, dark green eyes wide and somewhat frightened, retracing the mayor's path toward the bedroom of her roommate and best friend. "I - what are you...?"

"I had to pick something up of Henry's." Regina speaks quickly, still smiling, white teeth bright against tanned skin. "He left a school book here a few nights ago. Don't worry, he'll be prepared for class when you see him later today, of course." She turns toward the door, ignoring the dull ache of pain in her arm. _  
_

"But, how did you get in?"

"Miss Swan was nice enough to leave a key beneath the welcoming matt after I called her last night." Regina twists the knob, opening the door, already pivoting on her heel as she turns to leave.

"But I saw you leave her room!"

"Yes." Regina's smile strains, glancing over her shoulder at Mary Margaret, an impatient glare peaking through the politeness. "That's where she had his book. I did my best not to disturb her rest. Now if you'll excuse me, I should get back to my son. Have a very nice morning, Miss Blanchard."

The door closes with a  _bang_  and Mary Margaret is left with the sound of retreating foot steps, heels rushing down wooden stairs until they fade away, and the sound of still running water. Turning from the door, she walks slowly back to the bathroom, reaching into the steam to grasp the metal knob, twisting until the water dies down again.

Standing very still for a moment, Mary Margaret lifts her gaze to the mirror, the glass covered in a thin coat of steam, waiting for the tumbling hoard of thoughts to fall through the sky, crash on land, start to assemble themselves into logical reason.

_Emma gave the mayor a key... to our apartment... allowed Regina to go into her room... while she was sleeping._  Mary Margaret tries to give the mayor the benefit of the doubt, searching her memory for any hint of Emma possibly alerting her to the fact that the mayor would be visiting in the morning.  _I have been out later and later, maybe she didn't have time to tell me. Maybe I was distracted._  A smile teases her lips at the thought of David, but then a frown slips across her face, forcing herself to focus.  _I would have remembered though, wouldn't I have? And she would have told me. She definitely would have told me._

It would have been an odd thing to lie about though. After all, there was no other reason for Regina to have come to the apartment so early. The story itself was not so implausible. Mary Margaret shakes her head, brushing away the shower curtain and leaning forward to twist the knobs again, cold water beginning to trickle out.  _I'm being as silly as Henry is, thinking she's as bad as the evil queen in his - his -_ the book! Regina didn't have a book with her. And for that matter, Henry doesn't even have school today. Mary Margaret's eyes grow wide, staring at the checkered black and white tiles that construct the bathroom.  _If she didn't go into Emma's room for a book, then she went to... oh god, no._

"Emma!" Mary Margaret rushes from the bathroom, leaping instinctively over the couch, landing on her feet, a surge of adrenaline blasting fireworks into her bloodstream, a raging fear striking her heart, slamming her roommate's door open. "EMMA!"

In the half second it takes for Emma to jerk awake, Mary Margaret has already registered the tousled sheets and blankets, a drawer opened, clothing mussed up, slight dents in the walls, objects strewn and seemingly knocked off, and Emma's partly buried form, a pillow halfway on her face.

"GOD, NO! EMMA!" A desperate sob rips itself from Mary Margaret's throat, and she collapses to her knees, kneeling by the bed, dark green eyes drowned in tears, spilling down her flushed cheeks, her body shaking, wracked with grief. She doesn't notice her roommate's bleary eyed gaze as she coughs and straightens up in bed, blinking in alarm at the sight of Mary Margaret wailing at her bedside.

"Oh my god, what's happened?" Emma shakes Mary Margaret's shoulder and leaps back in bed as Mary Margaret shrieks in fear, tumbling back on the hard, cold floor.

"YOU'RE ALIVE!"

"Of course I'm - " Emma chokes in surprise as Mary Margaret shoots up, still sobbing, and grabs Emma in a hard, unrelenting squeeze.

"Oh my god. Oh my god." Mary Margaret suddenly laughs, pulling away, shifting her body so that she sits on the edge of the bed. "Oh my, I feel so silly." Sniffing, she smiles through the last torrent of tears, her face sticky with salt, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, her body boiling with not fully explained emotion.

Emma stares at her, brow creased, hesitantly reaching for Mary Margaret's hand, patting it awkwardly. "The fuck is wrong with you?" Emma has the talent of making harsh words sound caring and Mary Margaret laughs again at her words.

"I saw Regina leaving your room and I just thought - oh, I know it's so stupid, but I didn't see her with a book so I thought she had lied when she said you let her in, and then I couldn't understand why else she'd be here." Mary Margaret closes her eyes, shaking her head, her face flushed from adrenaline, rosy from humiliation. "When I saw you lying like that I just thought - oh, I feel so stupid."

Emma blinks. "What book?"

"The book Henry left."

Emma blinks again. "What are you talking about?"

"The book that you said Regina could - " Mary Margaret pauses, searching Emma's face for recognition, suddenly noticing smeared plum stains on the corner of her lips, her jaw, streaked down her neck. " - could pick..." Emma is wearing a tank top, but the sheets twist around her waist and Mary Margaret is stricken with the idea that Emma might not be wearing anything else underneath. "...um, why was Regina here, Emma?"

"Well," Emma shifts. "I invited her in last night."

"Right." Mary Margaret nods, as if that makes sense to her. And for a moment it does, but then she remembers who Regina is and who Emma is. "And why did you do that?"

"Because, I wanted to - well, we wanted to..."

"You wanted to...?"

"Sleep together."

"Right." Mary Margaret nods again. "Okay, right." Dark green eyes consider for a moment the peeling yellow wallpaper, remembering David's offer to help renovate it to her liking. Between teaching, volunteering at the hospital, and carrying on a quasi-affair, it's hard to manage all the extra things in her life.

"Mary Margaret?" Emma waves her hand across her roommate's line of vision, snapping her fingers twice.

"Oh, sorry!" Mary Margaret blushes and smiles, nodding her head again. "I think I spaced out for a moment there. You invited Regina in last night to...?"

"We slept with each other last night."

"Right." Another nod. "Of course you did. That makes a lot of sense, and of course I have no judgment to place, but I hope you don't mind me asking if you are - you know - OUT OF YOUR MIND?" Mary Margaret leans forward, gripping Emma's arms, green eyes flared up in panicked concern.

"Ow." Emma says pointedly, wincing as she pulls away, but Mary Margaret's white knuckled grip is surprisingly strong. "I know it must seem a little weird but really this is no big deal."

"No big deal?!" Mary Margaret gapes at her. "You're having an affair with the mayor!"

Emma laughs, submitting to her best friend's hold. "This was a one time thing, believe me. No affair, no scandal, no consequences."

"Emma, this is  _Regina Mills_ we are talking about! There are  _always_  consequences."

"Not this time." Emma gently pries Mary Margaret's fingers off her arms, gripping the sheets and dragging them off the bed as she wraps them more tightly around her waist, proving Mary Margaret's previous fear. "She ran out, right? Neither one of us wants this to go any further."

"So this was just - just a mistake." Mary Margaret thinks of David, immediately deciding to back off of Emma. "I guess we're all entitled to that, then."

"No, not a mistake really." Emma crouches down on the floor, peeking through dust for her underwear and clothes. "We wanted each other last night and we went for it. No one got hurt, and it won't happen again."

"Well," Mary Margaret hesitates, unable not to press just a little further. "If you don't think it was a mistake then why are you so sure you won't repeat it?"

Emma pauses beneath the bed, remembering the desperate whine of Regina's breath tickling her ear, honey brown legs raised on either side of her body, heated thighs pressed painfully tight against Emma's head, drowning her in apple cinnamon scents, the salt flood of the mayor's climax gushing down her throat. "She was just in a really bad place last night, and maybe so was I. We needed anybody and we were there and it worked. Last night at least. But it's something we both know won't happen again."

"Oh." Mary Margaret averts her eyes as Emma starts to dress. "But, I don't get it. Why were you two together last night in the first place? When did you two even get close enough to even think about being  _comfortable_  doing what... you two were doing?"

"It's a long story."

"Oh, please tell it to me."

"Don't you have that shift at the hospital today?"

Mary Margaret looks down at her teddy bear pajamas, one hand rising to her still unwashed hair. "Okay, I'll hop into the shower, get dressed, and we'll walk to the hospital together. You can tell me the whole thing on the way."

They leave the apartment together, Mary Margaret brimming with unabashed curiosity, careful to remind herself not to judge Emma's tastes when she herself is seeing a married man. Still, David has never gone out of his way to hurt her (beyond leading her to believe he had no feelings for Katherine until he remembered that he did, then leading her to believe he would finally tell Katherine he was leaving her until he decided that he couldn't) like the mayor constantly tries to hurt Emma. The relationship, even as nonexistent as Emma claims it to be, makes no sense to Mary Margaret. There is also something deep rooted inside her heart, as unexplained as her sudden startling grief concerning Emma's possible death, that tells her there is something almost... perverted in the sudden interaction between Emma and Regina.

_Am I homophobic?_  She asks herself, walking out into the cold with Emma, the door locking behind them.  _No... I loved Will & Grace._ She shakes her head, figuring the strange sense of perversity has to do with her own intense fear and mutual dislike of Regina Mills.

"So?" She bounces a little on her feet, shallow puddles from last night's rain splashing her long coat, hugging Emma's arm to her own as they walk. "Tell me everything."


	2. The One Night Stand

It starts in the car. Slow and gentle, Emma's hands trace the soft curves of Regina's face, fingers grazing the soft, plum painted lips. The older woman, darker woman, shorter woman trembles beneath the feather light touches that tease her skin. She can't (won't) beg for more, admit that she cannot stand this, these heaping waves of electric anticipation and foreplay she's been enduring (suffering) this past week.

As the Evil Queen she took what she wanted when she wanted it. Graham's heart crushed in the palm of her hand as he groaned into kneeling submission, ducking beneath her skirts and servicing her, granting instant satisfaction.

As Leopold's wife she'd lain still and silent beneath his crushing, thrusting weight, biting her lip hard as he groaned above her, his breath and spittle coating her face, waiting for that final moan and hot climax that burned within her.

As Regina she'd caught snatches of moments with Daniel, giggling madly and hiding behind the cherry trees and bushes, their mouths crushed clumsily against one another in heightened, frustrated passion, laughing into each other's throats, disappearing beneath piles of hay, coughing and sneezing and still laughing as they gripped to one another, touching as much as they could before Regina was forced by the dimming time and rules of propriety to push him away. Always there was that painful ringing echo for  _more more more_.

The Mayor of Storybrooke doesn't do foreplay.

As Emma's cold, pink lips press gently against her throat, tugging down the damp fabric of the turtleneck sweater, Regina can't prevent the harsh whine of frustration that rises in her voice. "Can we just get on with this!"

But  _this_  is happening only once, and Emma intends to savor it. Beneath her kiss she can taste Regina's frantic pulse. It throbs in an anxious rhythm, speeding up as Regina swallows. Emma inhales her, breathes her in, enjoys the smoothness of skin. Caramel cream and small dark beauty marks that beckon for her bite. Emma releases the turtleneck, her lips gently trailing up along Regina's stiffening jaw, pressing more firmly against it.

"Maybe you should calm down." She murmurs against the tanned skin.

_I am kissing the daughter of my enemy, the mother of my beloved, a woman whose power can destroy me, who can take everything I hold dear away from me._

_Don't tell me to be calm. What the fuck should I be calm about?_

Certainly not about Emma Swan's heated breath against her ear, hands creeping gently beneath the turtleneck sweater, flattened against her bare stomach. Emma's hands are cold to the touch, sending instant shivers across Regina's flushed skin. Slowly they inch up beneath the sweater, tracing the edges of a purple lace bra.

Emma treasures texture: the soft blanket with her name lovingly stitched across, evidence that somebody had cared for a moment, at least for those moments, however long it took to think up a name and sew; the red leather jacket, stuck tightly to her form, a second layer of skin, sleek armor that is subtle but to the point; the cool metal of her own car, running her hands across the windshield, the chipped yellow roof, closing her eyes and remembering the first day she'd broken into it, swerving on the road, glancing into the mirror to see  _Him_  behind her.

Pushing back with a little more force, Emma climbs off her seat and straddles Regina's lap, her head bowed, back arched, feeling the hard press of the padded ceiling, the steering wheel digging into her hips. Regina's chin tilts up, meeting Emma's lips in a painfully soft kiss, but slowly it deepens, growing insistent, the sheriff's tongue sweeping across the plump barrier, asking for permission.

For a second, beneath Emma's enclosing weight, it is too much like Leopold's, but as Regina's lips part to instinctively tell her no, Emma's tongue slips inside and Regina grows dizzy in this entangled embrace, this heated dance, this odd jigsaw puzzle that doesn't quite fit but feels very nice.

Emma's hands gently massage just below the breasts, small circular patterns that run up and down the skin, the sides of Regina's ribs. Gold ringlets frame her face, tickling Regina's cheek as they press deeper into one another, Regina gasping and arching into her mouth. A moan tickles the mayor's throat, growing and exiting in a low vibration that flickers heat inside Emma's chest.

"Are you ready now?" Emma whispers against her lips, her voice low, husked with smoke curdling in her throat.

"I... I can't." Regina can't restrain her whimper as Emma presses into her again, the kiss rougher, Emma's fingers threading through her short hair, gripping tight to her scalp, forcing her to tilt up. Regina submits to the physicality, she can't escape pure force, not in this world.

"Come with me." Emma kisses her chin, her cheek, her ear. "I know you want me."

"It's not that." It's hard to breathe in between kisses and words and the younger woman's weight on top of her. "I - I can't - I don't know -  _how_  with another woman."

There had been the cook's daughter, who'd once allowed Regina to feel her lips, and they'd touched briefly beneath their skirts, and Regina had bathed with her as children, remembered with admiration the growth of hips and breasts but any curiosity she might have had was ignored in favor of Daniel's love, Leopold's entrapment, Graham's useful services.

Regina had had lovers, brief encounters in the dark, disguised as a barmaid or a shy shepherdess in small taverns, allowing herself to be taken in heavy breaths and hot sweat on hard wooden benches and tables that scraped against her skin, gave her burns and blisters. She liked how it felt to be taken, to lose control, even if bile rose in her throat, with every stranger's thrust reminding her of Leopold.

She cannot afford tenderness. She'd ordered Graham to be tender once, crying in her climax, whispering Daniel's name. With a woman, she imagines it would have to be slow, have to be tender, and she can't do that to herself again.

She won't let Emma taint the memory of  _Him_.

"I just want to make you feel good tonight." Sea-green eyes are illuminated in the darkness. "I just want you on my bed, lying down, feeling good." A smile, just slightly stained and crooked, Regina can smell the coffee on her breath. "Let me do that for you. Just for tonight."

* * *

Still apprehensive, excuses and confessions trickling down her throat, Regina nevertheless allows herself to be pulled out, gloved hand in gloved hand, her chocolate eyes lingering on the red scarf wrapped around the sheriff's neck. There's a rush of lingering mist, of ice cold air, and they lean against one another as they walk. The exterior of the apartment building is hidden in the darkness save for a streetlamp that emits a dim orange glow. The sidewalk is covered in damp leaves and oil stains from parked cars. A plastic bag crinkles in the wind, rolling down the street.

Emma notices the slight limp Regina has as they head for the stairs leading toward the apartment. "Are you hurt?"

"High heels were probably not the best choice for today." She thinks of gas pedals, slippery dirt hills, rushing up the gravel incline at the sound of a shot fired, the panic that seized her at the thought of a cold body crumpled to the floor, crimson blood pooling from a silenced, frozen heart.

"Probably not." Emma grins. "You didn't do so bad though."

They walk a few more paces, Regina wincing at each step, starting to slow down. "Actually, Miss Swan, I've decided that - "

Emma turns her face, low chuckles into the crook of Regina's neck, her arm wrapping around her waist, tugging her closer. Regina blinks as they begin to sway, her shoulder grazing red brick before Emma grabs hold and pushes her more firmly against the wall, spreading her legs apart so that she's balanced on the sheriff's thigh now parted between her own.

"What are you - ?"

The sheriff grabs hold of her wrists, pressing against the beating veins, holding them just above Regina's head. On instinct, Regina raises her legs to wrap around Emma's strong hips, granted a momentary reprieve from the pain in her feet as the sheriff lifts her up. Emma looks at her with amusement flitting across her gaze joined by an impatient, hardened determinedness.

"We're going up to my apartment." Emma says.

 _We can't do that,_ Regina thinks.

"You're going to undress." Emma says.

 _I most certainly will not,_ Regina thinks.

"You're gonna get in my bed." Emma says.

 _You're out of your mind,_  Regina thinks.

"And then I'm gonna fuck you."

Regina has a great many more protests lingering on her lips but Emma muffles them, the sweet scent of apple spice perfume mingling with lavender, and the lingering stench of hay and horses that cling to Emma. Regina is forced to submit to it, moaning inside her captor's mouth.  _You taste good, you shouldn't taste this good._

Regina's back scrapes against sharp edges as Emma lowers her back down to the ground, Regina's arm rising to settle around one shoulder, Emma's arm around her waist, soft curves sinking into the hard muscle of the sheriff's body. They make it up the stairs, stumbling, turning again to taste each other's mouths, cup each other's cheeks. It's still too soft, too gentle, but at least there is the curling of flames that Regina can reach out for, grasp onto. She waits impatiently for everything to move faster, flames growing higher.

_This could be alright, this could be alright, let me just lose myself in you, let this go so fast I can't breathe, I can't blink, I can't think - and then it can be okay._

* * *

There's a brief slimmer of dim orange light as the door unlocks and they fall through, the darkness returning as the door bangs shut and land on the couch, two forms twisting into each other, hot breaths and kisses escalating until Emma pushes her off and forces her down, climbing on top again where she likes to be.

"Ow." Regina winces, and Emma pauses from above. "No - not you - my feet." They sort of laugh, a panting of breath, and then Regina feels Emma move off her from above, cold hands cradling her ankles. "Wait - what are you doing?"

"Making you feel good." In the darkness, Emma settles both heeled feet on her lap, slipping off the shoes and tossing them onto the floor. Her fingers return to the cold feet, damp with specks of dirt and leaves, pressing in hard, soothing circles on the cramped, burning flesh, kneading the tightened muscles.

"You d-don't have to - to - ohhhhh..." Regina can't restrain these moans that burn in her throat, drifting like sweet smelling smoke toward Emma who can't hear the protests caught between Regina's pleasure and hesitation. Emma's hands make their way up to her calves, where the tension is heightened, and this new pressure hurts, her body unused to running around, chasing bad guys.

"Should I stop?" Emma teases, slowing and deepening her touch.

"Don't... dare... kill... you..." Regina groans, an audible  _scraaatch_  of her nails against the cushions, gripping desperately as she bucks into Emma's hard touch, whimpering at the feel of her calves burning.

"You know we can't do this all night, right?" Emma's hands inch up to her thighs, digging her palm into the sore flesh. "I do have other plans."

"Swan... feel... good... you... promised..." Regina moans again, her head thrown back. "Don't... stop..."

Emma continues, making her way slowly up to Regina's waist, thumbs sinking into deep circles, pulling herself up to lay upon the mayor's moaning, gasping, trembling form. She experiments with pressure and force, intrigued by the pleasured sounds, desperate pleading whimpers for more. It isn't until she bends down for a kiss that the sounds stop, and she's startled when Regina suddenly pushes her away, sitting up in the dark. "What is it?"

"Maybe I should leave."

"Oh what  _can_  it be now!" Emma exclaims impatiently and with frustration. She can feel Regina's hand moving through the dark, and stiffens for a moment, raising her arm in defense, expecting a slap, but there's only a soft tug as slender fingers grip the red scarf tied around neck, strings of the soft fabric having had brushed against Regina's face when Emma had bent down for the kiss.

"Your little whore might pop by unannounced."

Emma blinks. "She's not coming by and she's not a whore. Don't call her that."

"No more than you are maybe." Regina says nastily.

"And no more than you." Emma shoots back, immediately reaching out and grasping Regina's wrist when she feels her weight about to lift from the couch, pressing her body against the mayor's, pinning her to the armrest. "You know what I think?"

"Very little, I imagine."

"I think you want me to be angry with you."

"And why would I care what you feel toward me?"

"Because you're afraid this... thing between us will last more than just one night." It's a shot in the dark, Emma really has no theories, but she needs something to help pin Regina down, persuade her to stay longer. She feels the shorter woman pushing up against her, a fruitless struggle against the dominant muscles and weight.

"It's not lasting even  _one_  night," Regina growls, "never mind - "

"Oh, fine!" Emma pushes up off her. "Fine!"

There's silence, and then the light  _patter patter patter_  of the rain returning, quick taps against the glass, the sound of distant thunder and the sudden strike of lightening illuminating the two women, finding themselves staring at each other in the moment of brief blue light.

"...or, maybe I just knew angry sex with you would be amazing." The words come out quiet, almost mumbled, but Emma hears it clearly and turns toward the soft sound, a wide grin spreading.

"Amazing?"

"Fun." Regina quickly amends, the darkness hiding the quirk of a smile.

"Amazing." Emma whispers, inching closer, her lips returning to Regina's.

* * *

There's one small window in Emma's room that looks out upon the streetlamp, a dim orange glow illuminating the bare room, save for a closet, drawers, and clothes strewn about the floor. The rain continues in a fast rhythm but taps lightly against the glass as it strikes and the walls grow colder. Still, the two women rolling around between the sheets don't notice, breathing hard and exuding sweat, saliva dribbling from between their thighs, blood rushing to their heads as they take turns being thrown upside down, over the side of the bed.

Emma is amazed by the mayor's performance, clinging to her paler skin, crying as she comes, bucking desperately to the beat of Emma's flexing fingers, curling them up and straightening them out, pumping mercilessly and drawing away whenever Regina strayed too close to the finish line.

"Uhhhh... no, please... do it... now, please, please... do it..." Tears flow in a hot fever down Regina's cheeks, squeezing her eyes shut as she wraps her arms around the sheriff's neck, her legs locked around the sheriff's waist, refusing to let her go until this volcanic fever in her belly is allowed to erupt, allowed to flow. This isn't quite as rough as she is used to, but any tenderness is coated in a tease, and Regina can just barely stand it. This is good, she can lose herself in this, she doesn't have to think of  _Him_  and she doesn't have to think of whom she's actually with.

Later in the night, after reaching white hot bliss over and over, settling down in the sweat soaked sheets, her musk and Emma's hanging heavy in the air, settled on their flushed, entangled skin, Regina imagines she can hear the melody of spider web strings being pulled taut and released, gazing at the intricate silver pattern hanging on the orange tinted glass window, cold droplets splashing the pattern. Soon it will all be wiped away.

_Let this all be wiped away._

She can feel the steadiness of Emma Swan's breath, deep and even, her arm wrapped firmly around Regina's waist. They're separated by the thin sheets wrapped around Regina's bare and heated form. She holds the crinkled armor close to her body, guarding herself from smooth legs and blonde curls that dribble onto her skin.

_Let me forget this. Let this never have happened. Wipe it away. This was wrong, this was wrong, let it go, let it have never happened._


	3. The Case of the Missing Pets III

Emma's breath rises like steam, visible and warm, curling between the rain and descending fog, drowning and crushing Storybrooke. Her heart pounds in her ears as she runs, discovering more back alleys than she'd ever suspected intersected the town. Rain boots splash in puddles, shoulders bumping against narrow brick alley passages, heads ducking low beneath fire escapes, Emma's body burning as she attempts to pick up the pace, but the distant figure is starting to more fully fade.

A few more rounded corners, a few more meters, labored breaths, and Emma gives up, sagging to the side, leaning against the wall, pulling out her cellphone from her jeans pocket. The stiff fabric is soaked through, it feels uncomfortable against the pale blue fingers, she fumbles with the phone, metal nearly slipping from her hand. Pressing the number three speed dial, Emma pushes off the wall and starts a slow, painful jog down the alleyway, onto another main road, raising the phone to her ear, impatience building during the dial tone. There's a  _click_ , crumpled static, and then a voice edges through the line.

" _Sheriff Swan?_ "

"He's headed right toward you on Woodland!"

More static. " _Sheriff Swan? Are you there?_ "

"Woodland!" Emma draws the phone from her ear, pressing it to her mouth as she raises her voice. "He's on Woodland now!"

Annoyance permeates the voice on the other line. " _Sheriff Swan, please respond._ "

"I am responding!"

Continued static, and then Emma listens as the voice on the other line lets out a suffering sigh. " _Probably sat on her phone and dialed accidentally. Idiot._ "

A frustrated growl rips itself from Emma's throat. "Woodland! Woodland! WOODLAND!" She shouts into the phone, a spike of adrenalin shooting into her bloodstream, raising her head and rushing forward again, arms pumping at her sides, breathing in short bursts, the alleyway, town shops and street stripping past her, drenched curls billowing behind her, mingling with the long red scarf, chasing after that still distant figure.

_SCREEEEECH!_

Emma hears it through the phone and the city street, running faster, phone clenched hard in her frozen palm, fighting through the fog until a tall street lamp sheds dim yellow light onto the scene. Peter Jäger's moans decorate the night, twisting around to grip his leg, caught beneath the tire of the mayor's car.

"Regina!" Emma gapes at the figure emerging from inside the town-car. "You ran over him!"

"Yes I did." Regina slams the car door, steam spilling in gentle waves from her lips, circling around and crouching down to observe her victim, and then back up at Emma. "So what exactly am I paying you for, Sheriff?"

"Running people over was never in the job description."

"Catching criminals is in the job description. It would be nice if you could do that much."

"Yeah, but you cover your tracks too well." Emma mutters, her voice hidden by the pounding rain.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Madame Mayor." Emma crouches down opposite her, beside Peter Jäger who continues to moan, deaf to the argument, face tilted back in pain, tears running into his hairline, his back arched, his knees twisted. "Can you drive off him now?"

" _Can you drive off him now?_ "

Emma blinks from the phone in Regina's coat pocket which has just produced an echo of her words, down to the phone still cradled in her hand. Her head snaps up, glaring at Regina, her voice accusatory. "You  _could_  hear me through the static."

"Oh, of course not." Regina answers with a quirked smile, her face flushed and dripping rain. "The static must have just cleared up."

"I can tell when people are lying, Madame Mayor."

Regina grins, stands up, turning to get back behind the wheel of her car. Emma stands up too, stepping out of the way, squinting as she watches Regina raise her blackberry to her face from behind the windshield. " _You couldn't over the phone._ " There's a click as Regina cuts her off, and Emma rolls her eyes, stepping further out the way, closing her phone and opening it again, dialing the hospital as Peter Jäger starts screaming again from the release of pressure on his leg, Regina slowly rolling off, and a few lights in apartments and above shops switch on.

"Yes, hi. This is Sheriff Swan. I'm at the corner of Grove and Woodland. A man's been hit by a car." Emma watches Peter Jäger gasping, leaving a thin trail of blood as he attempts to crawl away from Regina down the street, pulling himself by his hands and one knee, dragging his stomach against the uneven pavement. "He's a suspect in a kidnapping case, so please bring handcuffs." She waits a moment. "Yes, thank you. You too."

They let him crawl, Emma walking a little beside him, Regina driving slowly from just behind. She rolls down the window after a moment, glancing over through the rain at Emma on the sidewalk. "Can we interrogate him now?"

"Let's get him to the hospital first."

"So he can get comfortable and prepare his lies? I don't think so, Sheriff. This is the perfect time to find out where he's keeping them."

Emma sighs, wiping water off her face, a new layer of rain quickly replacing the last. "I can tell when people are lying to me. Don't worry, we'll find out where they all are."

They continue keeping pace with Peter Jäger, and wait for the blare of sirens. Someone raises up a window and calls out to them from above a shop. Emma turns around, walking backwards, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Sheriff business! Everything under control!" The sirens come, revolving lights flashing down the street, and Peter Jäger finally collapses, shivering and moaning, as the ambulance slips just past him, parking just in front of him.

The paramedics push open the back door and jump out, unfolding a stretcher and carefully levitating Peter Jäger's body onto it. One of them looks to Emma, cocking her head in silent question and Emma nods in response, quickly climbing in with them. The doors behind them shut, and Emma grabs hold of something to keep steady while the ambulance roars with life and takes off down the road, the mayor's car following after them. There are no windows in the back, which makes Emma nervous, but thankfully the drive is not long. Her stint in prison was fairly short but the experience made a lasting impression. Now she's sheriff and her job is to put other people where she's been.

The ambulance screeches to a halt in front of the emergency room doors. Emma hops off and follows the paramedics, pausing only to glance back and see Regina locking the car doors before rushing in after them.

"Is this going to take long?" Regina huffs, and Emma is surprised to see her already out of breath after their quick sprint down the hall to the room where Peter Jäger is being carried into. "They could be suffocating for all we know. We have to find out where they are."

"We will." Emma assures her, the two of them waiting for a moment outside the doors before a nurse comes out for them and allows them to visit the patient. Doctor Whale turns from the hospital bed to greet them.

"Madame Mayor," He nods, and then turns with raised brows toward Emma. "Sheriff, I suppose we should all be thanking you for throwing so much business our way."

"How is Mr. Friedman?" Emma asks, her nose crinkling up in remembrance.

"Perfectly alright. A little dehydrated. Probably will need therapy for the rest of his life. Now," Doctor Whale nods at the nurses who finish cuffing Peter Jäger. "his condition is not terribly serious but he is in a lot of pain. I will have to give him morphine which may cause him to pass out before you finish questioning him."

"Then don't give him the morphine until he tells us what we want to hear." Regina strides up to the hospital bed, leaning over the thin man, glaring fiercely into his hazel eyes. "Where are they, worm?" Peter Jäger shrinks away from her, metal cuffs ringing against the bedside railings, pained and panicked eyes darting towards Emma.

"Don't look at me." Emma shrugs. "She's mayor. I can't help you."

When Peter Jäger wets his lips and finally speaks his voice is prettier than any of them had imagined. It flows out, nervous and strained, but still melody. It suits his too thin frame and crown of wild red curls tumbling over his sweating face. He looks like a bird, its wings clipped by metal cuffs. "I killed them."

Regina takes a sharp intake of breath but pretty melody doesn't faze Emma. "Tell the truth."

"They're dead." Peter Jäger insists. "They're dead... and gone to heaven. Away from fools like you who have no idea how to properly treat them!" His hazel eyes pierce the dark chocolate of the woman still leaning above him, his breath on her chin. "What I did was in their best interests."

Emma grabs Regina's arm and forces her off before her hands can reach all the way toward Peter Jäger's neck. "Okay, I'm going to tell you a little secret." It is Emma's turn to lean on the railing, ice droplets dripping on the mattress from her coiled hair and leather sleeves. "I have a superpower. I can tell when someone is lying to me. So I'm gonna ask you again. Where are they?"

Peter Jäger's hazel eyes shine brightly with tears, his leg starting to shake. "You hurt them. You all try to hurt them. I'm their savior, I'm the one doing good."

"No good is gonna come to  _you_ ," Emma's voice lowers dangerously, "unless you tell me where they are."

The need for drugs, to soothe the pain, overrides Peter Jäger's faith in higher ideals. His voice is an odd melodic whine as he tells Emma of a shed in the forest, an electric fence that prevents the animals from returning home. Regina and Emma rush out, leaving him to his morphine, running back toward the car.

"Ruby," Emma slips into the passenger seat, pulls out her phone, pressing the cool metal against her ear, wiping water off her face. "We have them. Call the numbers and give them these directions."

Regina drives half blind through the rain, the car sinking in and out of little muddy ponds that occupy the dirt road etched through the drive until there is no more dirt road and the only light striking through the darkness is the dimming flare of the car headlights, and the white mist that drenches the woods. Regina parks by a tree, twists her keys, cutting the engine off, and follows Emma out into the rain.

Emma, still on the line with Ruby, takes Regina's hand and together they stumble down a slippery dirt hill, pressing their bodies against rising trees, bracing themselves so they will not fall. Regina says something but her voice is lost in the pounding rain. Emma lowers the phone from her ear, pulling Regina's body closer to her, the mayor's lips on her ear, Emma's back pressed hard against bark.

"I heard something from over there!" Regina shouts again, pointing to their left.

They grasp hands again, helping to steady and pull one another down the steep hill, finally finding level ground. Regina's dark hair, dark eyes, long grey coat, black slacks and turtleneck sweater helps her blend into the darkness. Emma continues to hold on tight, afraid she might accidentally lose her.

"There!" Regina shouts again, but Emma still doesn't see it. "There! Over there!" And then Emma does. The glint of silver coil, of rippling energy, and beyond the fenced off pasture of woods there are the horses, heads knocked back, kicking anxiously at the dirt, unbrushed manes sagging in the rain, tails swishing back and forth in agitation, nostrils flaring and puffing out curling steam.

"Ruby!" Emma laughs. "I think we found them."

" _Awesome. We're all on our way._ "

It doesn't take the townspeople long to arrive, a steady stream of pet owners trickling down the hill, following the sheriff carefully over the electrical fence (a pile of fallen logs are placed beside it to help climb over), stepping out of the way of stamping horses, dodging manure, until they make it to the sizable shed where cats, rabbits, birds and other pets shiver in their individual cages.

"Pongo! Pongo! Here, boy!" Archie Hopper strides through the mud soaked grass, sinking to his knees and letting his umbrella fall away at the sight of his Dalmatian. The dog lets out a howl of excitement and runs through the growing crowd of townspeople toward his master, knocking the therapist down to the ground, eagerly licking the rain off his face.

The rest of the dogs also attack their owners with relish, running and weaving through horses and people, knocking them off their feet, panting and howling and begging never to be lost and ripped from home again.

As the employees and volunteers from Storybrooke's Stables come to collect their horses and lead them away, through the rain, up the steep hill, and the forest, brightened by dozens of car headlights, finally begins to dim again, Emma reaches in for a familiar black kitten and draws her out of the shed's cage.

"Onyx," Regina coos lovingly, her fingers brushing Emma's as she retrieves the shivering kitten.

Emma smiles at the sight, turning when there's a tug on the bright red scarf she wears and Ruby grins in greeting at her. "Hey."

"Ruby, you were great today." Emma hugs her, drawing them both beneath the sliver of roof constructing the shed, rain falling hard and fast against the wood. "I can't let you go. You're the best deputy ever."

"If only we could do things like this for everyone every day." Ruby smiles. "If all we did was make people happy then I could do this."

Kathryn comes to retrieve her rabbit, and the rain begins to clear away, the heavy fog lifting. The four women find themselves the last ones left, every other car driven home, the pets retrieved, every horse led away.

Kathryn and Regina take the lead, stumbling in their heels up the hill. For a moment, Regina slips on a branch and it looks as if she might fall, her hands clutching the small, dark kitten to her breast. Emma's hands shoot out, pressing against her back, and Regina grows steady, muttering an unintelligible note of gratitude. All four make it to the top of the hill, the dirt road, their cars, Kathryn cradling her rabbit, petting Onyx's head and talking quietly with Regina.

"I need to work late." Regina explains. "And I just don't feel comfortable leaving her on her own in the house."

"I totally understand. I'll take good care of her tonight."

Regina presses her lips against the damp, stringy fur of her kitten's head, her breath grazing its ears before handing her gently over to Kathryn who cradles both pets on her lap as she settles behind the wheel of her car.

"What work do you have to do?" Emma asks incredulously as Kathryn backs out the dirt road, splashing some mud as the wheels turn.

"I want that freak Jäger thrown in prison as soon as possible." Regina fluffs out and smooths down her damp hair. "That's going to take paper work. Lots of it."

"Emma, come on." Ruby steps up beside her, dangling the keys to the sheriff's car. "We're finally off duty."

"Right." Emma glances from her friend to her foe, who's studiously gazing into the darkness. "Actually, Ruby, I'm gonna go with the mayor."

"What? Why?" Surprise and disappointment immediately flavor Ruby's words. "I thought we'd... you know..."

"Sooner we get Jäger out of town, the better." Emma glances over her shoulder at Regina.

"You're going to need my report, right?" She's answered with a soft clearing of the throat and a barely perceptible nod. "If we pull an all-nighter it will save a lot of hell down the road."

"Okay, well, do you want me to help?" Ruby asks hopefully.

Emma smiles and lowers her voice. "I wouldn't force you to deal with  _her_  throughout the night." Ruby smiles in reply but something in her eyes tells Emma she also knows when people are lying. "I'll see you tomorrow at the station."

"Okay. Goodnight, Emma." Ruby swings the keys around her finger. "Night, Madame Mayor." She gets into the sheriff's car, shifts it into gear, backs out the dirt road until there's enough room for her to maneuver the car around and drive forward and out the depths of the forest. There's a few bumps along the road but it isn't long before she's on smooth, mud crusted pavement, the window rolled down to let in the moonlight shining through the thinning mist. Wind rushes through her scarlet streamed hair, cooling down her heated face.

_You said you liked me. I thought you said... I heard you whisper that you loved me._

* * *

Regina's heart is racing as they drive toward the apartment Sheriff Swan shares with Mary Margaret Blanchard. The streets are empty and vacant this late at night. It's hard to believe street chases, car crashes, ambulances and pet retrievals took place only hours before. The rain has stopped, leaving a lingering taste of humidity that sticks to the skin. Heat rises and carries with it potent scents. Regina can still smell the horses on Sheriff Swan, the hay and manure.

"I'll just wait here while you get your files." Regina speaks quietly as she parks against the curb, staring at her own hands, clutching tightly to the wheel.

"You look really cold." Emma says, a smile tickling her voice, warm and comfortable. "Come up and I'll get you a towel."

"I'll get dry when we get to the office."

"You may not last that long."

"Then, after you get the files you can bring down a towel for me." She continues to resist, clutching desperately to the wheel.

A pause, and then Emma leans forward, toward her, warm breath on Regina's cheek. "Come. With. Me."


	4. The Case of the Missing Pets II

Regina met Daniel in the rain. She remembers the fresh, almost too sweet scent of the damp grass, dew staining her skirts, the odd sensation of her bare feet sinking in the wet dirt. Before she knew how to ride she had loved to just walk to the stables, inhale the musky aroma of hay and horse manure. That's what Daniel smelled like, but even worse in the rain. The stench clung to him, painful and overwhelming, but she had loved when he drew her in his arms, her face buried in his chest, breathing him in. She had longed to dress herself in his scent, have his rough, calloused hands pass over every soft curve of her body, frustration and heat sparked between them, smothered by nothing, not even the rain, not even with his heart ripped out.

Water is supposed to cleanse, but Regina feels only weighed down by the droplets. They linger on her lashes, settle in her dark hair, add weight to her clothing, her tanned skin. Each step is a clumsy burden, her feet splashing within the puddles growing in her heels.  _Head high._  She commands herself, her face shielded by a scarf wrapped around her head and the thick fog she strides through.  _You're not asking for a favor. You're demanding to be served._  There is nothing to be embarrassed about, no reason to feel this flush of uncomfortable heat. Last night's kisses, heavy breaths and desperate touches don't mean anything but an immature woman's pathetic idea of fun. A cold droplet slips past her lips and Regina remembers the taste of a wine soaked tongue teasing and probing her gasping mouth.

 _For god's sake, get on with it._  Muscles twitching in her jaw, Regina opens the door to the police station and exits the rain, greeted by the warmth of the hall and office. A small bell jingles, announcing her presence, and the slow tap tap tap of her heels precede her arrival. Before she rounds the corner she hears raised voices, and she's surprised to see more people than just the sheriff occupying the space. Archie Hopper is there, and Marco, Doctor Whale, two nuns, Leroy, Kathryn and several other town protesters whose voices continue to grow. Regina blinks, lingering in the background, unconsciously smoothing down the damp dress whose ends drip water onto the floor, glimpsing Sheriff Swan hunched over a desk while the citizens lean over her, fighting for each voice to be heard the longest and loudest.

"Madame Mayor?" Ruby surprises her from behind, also soaked despite the umbrella she holds. "Are you here about the Walter Casey file? Emma hasn't had the time to file that in yet."

"I'm not here about that." Regina doesn't look at her; the sight of heavy mascara and eye liner, colored hair extensions, too many piercings, ripped stockings and too short shorts remind her of the whores Rumplestilskin used to make her practice on. She can hear his high pitched giggle piercing her ear, salivating at the sight of her hand plunging into the breasts of middle aged women and young girls with ancient faces, ripping their hearts from their chests, crushing them to dust. She knows he hates loose women, and sees the same face on all of them.

"Oh, what're you here for, then?" Ruby has agreed to step up as acting deputy for the past week and foreseeable future until Emma can find someone more qualified. Her grey eyes train steadily on Regina's face, urging for greater acknowledgment and recognition, but she's spared a probably unnecessarily rude answer from Regina as Kathryn suddenly turns around and alerts everyone to the presence of the mayor.

"Regina!" Kathryn hurries toward her and greets her with a quick one armed hug (however brief, however casual, the woman's warmth always elicits tentative stirrings of guilt in Regina) before grasping her wrist and pulling her forward, the small crowd of townspeople parting and nodding in silent respect toward the mayor. "Finally," Kathryn glares down at the sheriff who slowly raises her head, blues eyes sparked with flecks of green sliding over to gaze evenly at Regina. "you can make her give us some answers."

Unaccustomed to playing the hero, and completely unaware of what situation prompted this apparent mild antagonism toward the sheriff, Regina blinks for a moment, storing this moment away as something she can savor later. White teeth shine a bright smile amidst the dark shades of black, brown and grey clothing she wears. "What exactly seems to be the trouble?"

"My dog has been missing for three days!"

"Mine and my neighbor's dogs have gone missing!"

"My prize rabbit has disappeared! This is sabotage! Someone stole him, I know it! I need him back before the fair next month!"

"Both my cats are gone, and my fish - although one of them might've eaten him..."

"It's been four whole days and my whole block has lost their pets!"

"My whole chicken coop has been infiltrated! How am I going to make money off eggs that aren't there? This is my livelihood!"

Emma props her chin on her curled palm, drumming her fingers lightly against her face, continuing to watch Regina. The older woman's expression has changed from smug to rising irritation concerning the fact that the townspeople continue to rage their list of grievances at her. Once every season she had allowed an open court where any nobles could air their complaints but at least by the third beheading they had all learned their lesson and place. Finally the noise begins to die down, everyone's attention directed toward Regina.

"Well," She clears her throat. "It so happens my own pet is missing as well." She remembers now, the many scraps of wet paper pinned to the shops and lamp posts, realizes that those must have been missing pet posters, small things she hardly ever pays attention to. "As frustrating as Sheriff Swan's current incompetence and delay in catching the thief responsible may be," She pauses, happily allowing those words to sink in. "crowding her and taking up space will not help her solve the case any faster. I suggest you all leave descriptions of your individual pets and then clear out immediately so Sheriff Swan can finish her work. Or, finally begin. Whichever the case may be."

There's much grumbling but they all respond to her authority, and Regina watches with satisfaction as Ruby hands out pens and pieces of paper, gathering everyone's descriptions and attaching addresses. They begin to file out, Kathryn grasping Regina in another quick hug (her dirty blonde hair is stringy from the rain, smells like peaches, and guilt bubbles like acid in Regina's stomach), issuing another invitation to do brunch sometime before waving goodbye and heading out.

"...and be careful with how you approach him." Regina turns to find Leroy leaning over the sheriff's desk, his growling voice tweaked in a worried whine. "Dreamy can be vicious when he meets strangers but he's the best dog once you befriend him. Bring him a treat, or spread something sweet all over your hands. Also don't look him straight in the eyes. He hates that. He'll kill you."

"Thanks for the tip." Emma dismisses him, rubbing her eyes. As he leaves her gaze again rises, returning to Regina's. "Anymore juvenile insults you wanna shoot my way, or are you actually here for help?"

_How you can even dare think me juvenile after the stunt you pulled last night is beyond anyone capable of reasoning!_

Regina bites down her retort, smiling prettily instead. "Actually, it looks as if you're the one who needs help, Sheriff Swan. Clearly no one in this town can depend on you to return their pets on your own." She shifts her weight, sitting on the desk, glancing down to see shallow puddles of water decorate the floor, trail in messy lines across the room, mingled with the dirt and grass of townspeople's boots. "What is taking you so long in catching this thief? It is not  _that_  large a town."

Emma shrugs. "There's no eye witnesses. And it didn't officially even become my case until yesterday morning when people started phoning in."

"And what have you been doing since then?" The moment she asks the question, Regina regrets it, unable to stop the heat rising in her face as Emma pins her down with blue emerald eyes, a teasing smirk dancing across her lips.

"Um." Ruby clears her throat, both Regina and Emma stiffen and straighten up, recollecting her presence. Regina turns on the desk to glance over only in the girl's vague direction, still haunted by memories of whores. "It's four o'clock now. We said we'd go then."

"Yes, right." Emma draws slowly up from her chair, eyes briefly grazing Regina's form, the soaked grey dress plastered to her skin, every curve exposed.

"Where are you going?" Regina demands with more harshness than intended.

"The thief is targeting animals." Emma pins the sheriff badge to her jeans, pulls her gun and holster from the desk drawer. "We're going to check out the stables."

Ruby gestures at the pile of descriptions other townspeople left, buttoning up her coat. "You can add your cat to the pile."

"Kitten." A small pout curves Regina's lips as she thinks of Onyx; tiny, helpless, at the mercy of some deranged pet thief villain. "I found her missing this afternoon. But there wasn't any sign of a break in."

Emma nods. "Everyone else says the same thing. No signs of a break in. Not just of the pets that can be lured outside, but of fish as well, and birds in their locked cages." She scratches the back of her neck, looking hesitantly at Regina. "I'm, uh, sure she'll be okay."

"She might be.. if you could actually do your job and  _find_  her."

"We're on our way to do that." Emma rolls her eyes, turning to nod at Ruby. "C'mon, let's go."

"Wait," Regina frowns, pushing off the desk, landing in the puddles still sloshing in her shoes, "you can't go together."

"Excuse me?" Emma raises a brow, Ruby crossing her arms as she turns toward the mayor. "She's my acting deputy."

"Madame Mayor, if this is about - "

But Regina cuts Ruby off, desperate to stifle the memories boiling at the surface of all their minds. "Someone has to stay here in the office, on the phones, in case there is an eye witness." Regina nods toward Ruby. "You'll be staying."

Emma thinks it over. "I guess - yeah, guess that makes sense." She smiles at Ruby's disappointed face. "It's an important job. Just call me if you get anything, alright?" Her hand settles in a gentle squeeze on Ruby's shoulder.

"Alright." Ruby unwraps the bright red scarf around her neck and slings it around Emma's. "Here, this always gives me good luck." Her grey eyes lock onto Emma's face. "Go catch the bad guys." She leans into Emma, a swift kiss against her cheek, and some heat spreads from the rouge mark.

"She might get the chance if she actually finally got going!" Regina snaps, nostrils flaring in barely restrained fury. "Sheriff Swan, would you mind doing your job? I do not pay you to laze around!" She thinks of poor Onyx, shivering in the cold, abandoned on the highway, black fur drenched in the rain, dying of neglect while the sheriff shirks her responsibilities in favor of palling around with whores.

Both Ruby and Emma roll their eyes and share a sigh before sidestepping one another, Ruby settling down at a desk, pulling out a magazine, and Emma throwing on her coat, heading for the exit. Regina glares at her retreating back, but quickly follows her out, holding the flaps of her thin raincoat tighter around her body. The rain has picked up, falling with greater frequency, the chill seeping instantaneously through Regina's few layers and skin.

"Didn't you bring an umbrella, or anything?" Emma asks, holding her own above their heads, and reluctantly ( _Yes, reluctantly_ , Regina tells herself) Regina joins her beneath the shield, their hips grazing one another, Emma's arm snaking around her waist, holding her close as they step off the curb and begin to walk.

"It was only drizzling at first. The moment I realized Onyx was missing I rushed over here." Regina's legs are slightly shorter, her step quickening to keep pace with Emma, her heels sinking into larger and larger puddles."I did not realize you had let an epidemic break out."

"I did not  _let_  an - never mind, it is so not worth it."

Regina smiles. "That's loser talk for  _can't think of good enough response_."

Emma tilts the umbrella and Regina yelps as ice water suddenly rushes onto her hair, neck and shoulders, instinctively clutching Emma's arm.

"Miss Swan, cover me this instant!"

"I'm on the clock." Emma reminds her, grinning as she tilts the umbrella back in place. "It's Sheriff Swan. Unless you just want to start calling me Emma."

"Not particularly." They continue to the parking lot, breaking off at the sight of Regina's town car. "Wait," Regina snaps at her. "Take me all the way to my door, I don't want to get soaked any further." Emma walks with her the last few paces, holding the umbrella above her head as Regina opens the door, slides behind the wheel. "After your stint as sheriff ends I don't suggest trying for concierge."

"I don't suggest you doing anything that involves human interaction." Emma fishes for her keys. "Have a lovely day, Madame Mayor."

"Wait!" Regina leans forward, her hand grasping Emma's wrist.

"For the  _love_  of God, what the hell do you want now?"

"You can't take the sheriff's car."

Emma frowns at her, tugging her wrist away. "Look, I get that you and Graham were close or whatever, but this badge and the office and the car all mean more than just - "

"If you drive around in the sheriff's car, chasing after an evidently clever thief who can get in and out of houses without being detected, without leaving even any signs of a break in, that clever thief is probably going to be even more cautious around you. Harder to catch in the act." Regina looks around for Emma's yellow bug, squinting through the rain. "You should go undercover."

"Yeah, well, obviously." Emma is a former bail bonds person, of course she would have known that if she had thought of it. "But my car is in the shop." There's a hesitation on both parts, and then Emma turns to leave.

"Wait!"

"Regina, do you even  _want_  me to do my job?" Emma looks back at her, exasperated. "Because you're making  _goodbye_  unnecessarily hard."

"What I want is to have my kitten returned to me. And that's not going to happen if you're so conspicuous." Regina turns to unlock the doors of her car. "I'll drive you."

"Excuse me?"

"I will drive you. Find this thief, get Onyx back. Obviously you need someone helping you out anyway."

"Yes, I do." Emma agrees. "I need Ruby."

"Well, that's not going to happen and you know I'm right about the car so just get in."

Emma quirks a brow, stepping closer, tilting her head, the umbrella shading them both again. "Just so we're clear... this time you  _are_  inviting me inside, yes?"

Regina's brown eyes appear dark in the light, and light in the darkness. Emma gazes down at her through the surrounding mist, one palm placed against the cool surface of the car's hood, last night's memories drifting through the air, sizzling between them. Regina takes a breath. "Just get the hell in."

Emma's sudden answering smile reminds her of Henry's; small and crooked, their lips naturally rested in frowns, suddenly lifting, spreading wide, until the rest of their features fall away, their smiles conquering the surface.

Regina slips behind the wheel, waiting for the sheriff to circumvent the car and get in beside her. Water patters the windshield, fog presses against the glass, but Regina has sailed through enchanted storms, ridden on the backs of wild unicorns, been snatched and dropped from the claws of dragons, so the temporary loss of sight does not disturb her and she backs out easily from the parking lot, nearly every street in town fully memorized.

"Since you're coming along," Emma buckles up, rubbing her hands together for heat, placing the umbrella onto the floor between her locked feet. "you should know that the man we're going after is dangerous."

"How do you know the thief's a man if you don't have any eyewitnesses?"

"Well, actually, we do have a suspect. I had a run-in with a man yesterday morning." She tells Regina of the dogs, the man with the pipes, the gash in her stomach.

"You knew I had just gotten that kitten." Regina grumbles in response to her tale. "You could have told me there was a pet thief loose."

"Regina, there's about a million missing pet posters all over the place."

"So?" Her voice is vexed, not willing to admit she had remained oblivious. "People are stupid and careless and pets run away."

"With poetry like that it's no wonder people voted for you." Regina doesn't respond and after a moment Emma turns to look out the window, rubbing the glass with her coat sleeve, glancing at the passing town.

It takes about twenty minutes to get to the stables. Regina comes to a stop in the driveway, and glances up at Emma whose hand covers her own, preventing her from unbuckling. "Stay inside, just in case that freak's around."

 _Don't touch me._  Regina thinks with childish petulance, her skin warm. She can't help but notice that Emma has the same hands as Henry's, the same as Snow's. Soft, but gently calloused, wide and masculine. She thinks of them running over her body, gripping her flesh, kneading her flesh, spreading her apart...  _Stop it, Regina_.

Emma leaves the umbrella and steps out the car, slamming the door close and hurrying forward up the driveway toward the stables. They're on a hill and the mist grows thinner, she can make out details of the grounds with greater clarity. She's a city girl at heart (the explosive surge of energy and noise that wraps her up, takes her in, hides her safely in plain sight) but she can appreciate the fresh air and gentle wind, the rain fading away. She walks on mingled sand, grass and gravel, inhaling the dew and sudden stench of horse manure and hay. For a moment it's okay, but then the scent grows overpowering and Emma fights off the urge to retch.

She continues on, stepping inside the stables, her eyes widening in shock, face scrunching up in disgust at the sight before her. There are no horses in any of the stalls. Piles of dung mingled in hay occupy the space, surrounded by hoards of flies buzzing frantically from one treasure to the next and back again. A rat scampers out from a hole in the wall and Emma stumbles backwards, a panicked yelp caught in her throat.  _Gross! Gross! Gross!_  There isn't enough pure oxygen inside. Emma turns to run out, gasping into the cool, damp air, bending over her knees, remembering how to suck in air and let it out.

 _Beep! Beep!_  Regina sticks her head out of the rolled down window. "Well, Sheriff? Did you find anything?"

Emma sucks in a little more breath, nauseated by the smell, and then straightens up, jogging lightly toward Regina. The smell carries itself along with her, and she backs up a little when she notices Regina's crinkled mouth and nose. "The horses are missing."

"What?" Regina's eyes flare. "I should have been alerted about that at least. They're city property."

"Yeah, I know. I called them yesterday along with the pet shop and animal shelter, places like that. They never called back." Emma's hand rises to rest on her holster, lightly stroking the leather. "I'm gonna take a look around."

"Well, be - " Regina catches herself. " - quick."

Emma glances around, and then follows the driveway toward gated pastures, walking along the fenced line until she comes across a small one story white brick building. The lights are on but through the screen windows there are no shadows, no one appears to be inside.

"Hello?" She calls out, circling the small office building until she finds the front steps. Her knuckles rap quickly on the door but she hears nothing in response. She lowers her hand to the doorknob, grimacing as she twists it hard but it's unyielding. Lights on in the office, nobody answering, the horses all gone, the stalls looking as if they hadn't been cleaned out in days. Neon colored warning signs blink furiously in Emma's head as she pulls out her gun and levels the barrel to the keyhole, the muzzle gently pressing into it.

"If anybody can hear me," She calls out, "I'm breaking down the door so either open it now or stand back!" She falls silent, pressing her ear to the wood but still she hears nothing. "Three..." She warns. "Two... one!" There's a loud  _bang_  and the gun heats up in Emma's hands. The lock in place is destroyed, smoke curling out of the hole, and the door is easily swung open, the knob heated. Emma immediately raises her gun as she steps inside, blue-green eyes sweeping the area.

"Okay..." Her brow creases as she looks around the assembled office supplies, empty desks and shut down computers. "Perhaps I overreacted." Besides the fact that the lights are on, nothing is out of the ordinary. She isn't sure what she expected, except maybe that the desks would be covered in fish tanks, the air smothered with missing birds, horses relaxing in the corner, cats climbing on the walls, dogs chasing one another through the room.

It's a small office building with only three main rooms; the general reception area where there's a few desks and computers, a sizable kitchen with the shelves stacked with pop-tarts and a cheap coffee machine settled on the counter, and the bathroom. Emma pushes both the men and women's doors open to just take a peek inside but there aren't any animals hidden away there either.

Emma slips her gun back into her holster when suddenly she hears the quick patter of heeled feet crossing the office space. Her breath growing heated, Emma draws her gun again, presses her back to the wall, and waits a moment for the steps to grow louder. Taking a breath, she quickly pivots around the corner and shouts before her eyes register whom they're seeing. "Hands up!"

"Jesus!" Regina's arms shoot up on instinct, but after a moment of staring the sheriff suddenly breaks out in giggles and Regina lowers her arms, a growl rumbling like a motor caught in her throat. "Is that your idea of some sick joke?"

Emma shakes her head, blonde curls brushing against her neck, the giggles bubbling in her throat, holstering her gun. "N-no Madame Mayor." A silly grin spills across her face but she manages to get her voice under control. "I thought you might be the suspect or something."

"Well, I'm glad nearly shooting me to death brings you great amusement." Regina snaps at her, crossing her arms.

Emma sobers up at the mayor's look. "I had the safety on. Don't worry. Anyway, I told you to stay in the car."

"I heard a shot fired." Regina pauses. "And I do not take orders from you, Sheriff Swan."

"You hear a shot fired and you walk  _towards_  it?"

"I needed to make sure you were all right." The words flow in a cold current but Emma feels prickles of warmth before Regina continues on. "Obviously if someone had shot you I'd be in danger as well."

"Obviously." Emma echoes, smiling. "Okay, well, nobody's around here so I'll call in the missing horses to Ruby. There has to be at least one person in town whose seen a whole group of horses go through."

"Wait, there's no one working here?"

"Nope."

"Then why did you fire?"

Emma gestures at the entrance. "I had to break the door down."

"Really, Sheriff?" Regina arches a dark brow. "I would've thought you knew how to pick a lock."

Emma raises a hand to her damp curls. "Yeah, well, no pins."

"Well, points for resourcefulness, I suppose." Regina turns to sweep her own gaze across the room.

"That almost sounded like a compliment."

"Feel free to stress  _almost_." Regina nods at a locked door in the corner behind a desk Emma hadn't noticed before. "Did you check in there for anything?"

"Um..."

"Sheriff Swan," Regina smiles sweetly at her, her voice dripping poison. "could you perhaps just  _once_  do your job properly? Must I supervise everything? Think through every detail for you?"

Emma grits her teeth, prickles of warmth fading away. "You know it would be a lot less distracting if you would just - " Regina cuts her off with an impatient sigh, taps her heel and lets her gaze cross over toward the still unopened door. "Forget it." Emma grumbles, stepping around desks for the door.

Pale fluorescent light spills into the shadows of the supply closet as Emma cracks open the unlocked door. The sight that greets her is of a short, balding, chubby man puffing breath to no avail due to some cloth stuffed in his mouth and duck tape sealed across his lips muffling his sounds. Emma blinks down at him for a moment, and then glances over her shoulder to Regina. "I  _was_  going to check this."

Regina answers with a faint, sardonic smile. "How could I have ever doubted you?"

Together they crouch down in front of the man, Emma moving from behind to untie the man's hands while Regina squeezes her fingers in between flabby pale flesh and the silver duct tape, getting a firm hold on each end before mercilessly ripping it off.

"Gah!" A single tear runs down the man's cheek, his face raw from the quick, cold burn of the tape departing. The cloth stuffed in his mouth is tugged out by Regina, who then stands up in disgust as the man begins coughing directly in her face. "Oh - oh - oh thank you!" Pale blue eyes swivel back and forth from the mayor to the sheriff, now crouching in front of him to untie his feet. The rope has left sore burns on his wrists and ankles.

"Who did this to you?" Emma asks, her brow creased, nose wrinkled. There's a stench in the closet that smells of sweat and the man's un-cleansed odor. The stored heat in the room seeps out toward the rest of the office space. "And who are you?" She adds.

"Jeb Friedman." Regina answers briefly for him. "He manages the stables."

"Y-yes. Thank you." Friedman stumbles up, helped by Emma to stand, finally able to walk out of the supply closet, pale eyes blinking at the bright fluorescent. "I've been in there for three days. He made me call all my volunteers and employees and tell them they couldn't come in due to a gas leak, call all the private clients to tell them they wouldn't be able to ride in the next few days and then kept me here."

"Who is he?" Emma presses.

"That madman!" Friedman flushes red and purple. "I don't remember his name. He was an exterminator, though. He came the last time we had to call Animal Control for the snake and rat problem we had a few months back."

"What does he look like?" Emma pulls out a pen and notebook, quickly scribbling down _Animal Control_.

"Tall." Friedman scrunches up his face in thought. "Very very thin. Red hair."

"Red hair?" Emma thinks back to the man in the woods. "What kind of red hair?"

"Very wavy, you know. Curly."

"Did he have a sort of instrument with him?" Emma asks, remembering the pipes the man blew on. "What?" Friedman stares at her, perplexed.

"Sort of like pipes... never mind." She shakes her head. "We'll drive you down to the hospital."

Regina visibly squirms at the thought of having the sweating, reeking man in her expensive car but manages to withhold any protests. "Mr. Friedman, did you see where this man hid the horses, and the rest of the animals?"

"What rest of the animals? We have only horses."

"A lot of the town has lost their pets." Emma informs him. "We think it's probably the same guy who did this to you."

"Well, I don't know where he put the horses or any other pets." Friedman makes an ached noise as he slowly rolls his head around his head, cracks his knuckles, lifts his heavy shoulders up and down, his flesh jiggling. "He came in every day to give me crackers and water and that's all I saw of him, besides the time he had me use the phone to call everyone."

They walk outside together, Friedman turning to lock the door out of habit only to realize it had been shot off. Emma and Regina walk quickly to the car together, wanting to give Friedman as much berth as they can before they would all be stuck in the car together, no matter how short the drive.

"Hey, you know," Emma turns to Regina once all three are settled inside, driving through the thin mist and slow, quiet drizzle of rain. "if this guy came in to feed and water a hostage every day of his captivity, then it means he has some amount of compassion. I bet everyone's pet is doing okay."

"Yes," Regina deadpans. "they must be having the time of their lives."

"I am  _just_  trying to make you feel - "

"You need not concern yourself with my feelings, Miss Swan!"

"Would it really kill you to just accept some kindness from me?!" Emma asks incredulously, frustration raising the volume of her voice.

"Let's not find out."

Friedman coughs uncomfortably from the back and both the mayor and sheriff's raised voices are cut off, their eyes focussed only on the road, Regina's knuckles whitening on the wheel. After a moment of continued silence and trying not to breathe in Friedman's stench, Emma takes out her cellphone and dials Ruby's number.

" _Catch 'em, yet?_ "

Emma smiles at the sound of Ruby popping gum on the other line. "No, but I think we're actually one step closer. Do me a favor, call Animal Control, ask for a list of employees. Give them a description of a tall, thin man with curly red hair. Works as an exterminator."

" _You got it._ "

"Thanks, I'll see you later." Emma hangs up, stuffs her phone back into her pocket, glancing over at Regina who's still intently studying the road, her grip on the wheel growing tighter. "Ruby's going to call Animal Control for us."

"I am sitting right next to you, Miss Swan. I do have excellent hearing you know."

"Do you have excellent memory?" Emma snaps. "Because  _you're_  the one who insisted on coming along, not me!"

"Yes, I did insist, and I'm glad I did because you are, as always, clearly incompetent at your job!"

"And  _your_  job isn't to supervise me, so if you can't be civil for even one fucking moment then you can just let us out here!"

Friedman coughs, again, from the back. "I'd rather not walk all the way to the hospital, if it's all the same..."

The two fall into silence once again, Regina leaning forward in her seat until Emma Swan is cut out of her peripheral vision. The drive toward the hospital is tense, punctuated by Friedman's smell. Raw eggs and sulfur. It drifts beneath their nostrils when Friedman passes gas. Emma tries not to think too badly of him; clearly a diet of crackers and water, being locked in the dark, locked in the heat, bound and gagged for three days does nothing good for the body.

It starts raining heavily again as Regina eases the car in front of the emergency room exit. Emma quickly gets out, slamming the door behind her, and opens the door for Friedman who groans at some pain in his abdomen when he crawls out.

"Don't wait up." Emma tells Regina after knocking on the glass.

"I wasn't going to." Regina rolls the window back up, turns her head and presses on the gas pedal. She makes a few laps around the building, brimming with heat, with thoughts of pushing Emma Swan up against the wall and striking her face, punching her face, throwing her to the ground and kicking her. _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you._

Emma escorts Friedman inside, handing him off to surgical interns, quickly explaining the situation, and then looks down to see her phone vibrating. "Did you get something, Ruby?"

" _Yeah, they didn't have anyone employed that matched the description. But then I asked about former employees and bingo! Got ourselves a winner._ "

Emma smiles at the proud cheer in Ruby's voice. "Good thinking. Sure I can't make you stay on full time?"

" _Exactly which job are we talking about?_ " Ruby's voice grows a little quieter and coy.

Emma smiles and sidesteps the question. "So, we have a name? An address?" Emma pulls out her notepad and pen, quickly scribbling down the information relayed to her, thanks Ruby and then hangs up, heading back outside.

On her sixth lap around the building Regina sees Emma staring at her from the emergency entrance and slows down to park in front of her. Emma stands still for a moment, and then starts to approach her. Regina's finger hesitates on the button, and then presses, the window sliding down once again.

"I thought you weren't going to wait up."

"I wasn't."

"Well, then?"

"Sheriff Swan," Regina summons a huff and a well practiced patronizing tone, "I wish we could let these petty squabbles lie to rest. I simply wish to find my kitten and the best way to do that is to accompany you and make sure you do your job. You cannot lie I have not been helpful."

"Helpful? Yes, maybe. Pleasant? No."

"No, I am not pleasant. And you know what?" Regina leans a little toward the window, chin tilted up, dark eyes gazing into Emma's light ones, speaking slowly as if to a child. "Pleasant doesn't solve crime. So I suggest you suck it up, be a grownup, do your job and just help me and everybody else in this town find their pets."

She's disappointed not to receive an eye roll, a heavy sigh, an angry retort. Emma bends forward, resting her arms on the car window, forcing Regina to retreat inside. "What are you dooommmph!"

Emma's hand reaches out to cradle the back of Regina's head, pulling her forward to meet Emma's lips that press against hers in hunger. There's a moment of struggle, Regina angry and horrified, trying to jerk away, but Emma's strong hands thread through her hair, massaging her scalp while forcefully keeping her in place, and Regina is overwhelmed by the lingering scent of horse manure and hay that has attached itself to Emma's soft, cream skin. Slowly, she begins to submit, melting with a tortured moan beneath Emma's insisting lips.

"Regina," The mayor opens eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed, blinking in a daze up at Emma whose hand and face begin to withdraw. "I am so sick of your bullshit. You  _like_  me, okay? So  _you_  suck it up, be an adult, and let me do my work."

Regina gapes silently up at her.

"Now, if that offer still stands, I really  _could_  do with being inconspicuous and Ruby should still stay in the office just in case. I talked to her and got an address for a suspect. If you actually do want to help, I could use you."

It takes Regina a moment to process, and then to decide whether or not to run Emma over with the car or...  _I still hate you, Swan._  She presses a button and the window begins to roll up. Emma steps back, something like hurt flashing across her face, but then she hears the distinct  _click_  of the passenger door unlocking and grins broadly. "Whatever, Sheriff, just get in."

They drive off first to the mayor's office so Regina can change into a spare set of dry clothes, then toward the address Ruby relayed to Emma. It's in a darker side of town, where the streets curve and intersect in odd mazes. The rain falls harder on the glass. Regina is a little more dry now but Emma's hair sags against her face, and both their seats are uncomfortably damp. Regina feels her lace thong ride uncomfortably up.

"So, who's the suspect?" She finally asks, driving slowly through the streets, the pavement flooding.

"Peter Jäger. He was fired from Animal Control a few weeks ago. Could have a grudge, I guess. Taking it out on people's pets."

"And that's who you think you ran into yesterday?"

"It could be." Emma suddenly laughs. "You should hear Henry's theory about who it is."

"If it has anything to do with fairytale characters then I don't want to hear it." Regina uses the windshield wipers, squinting through the fog at the sign. "Four more blocks."

They drive up the side with even numbers, Emma counting until they reach door 334. "Okay, if this is the guy then he's probably going to run. So you stay out here in case we need to chase him down."

"How do you know he'll run?"

"They always run." Emma unbuckles and steps out the car, crossing over, raising the umbrella over her head, the wind blowing in her face, through her leather coat, freezing her skin. House 334 is fenced off with a little yard. She can tell even through the foggy darkness that some parts of the roof and walls have fallen into disrepair. Pushing open the gate, she strides quickly to the front door, ringing the bell and knocking on the door. "Peter Jäger? This is Sheriff Swan. May I have a word with you?" There's no answer and she repeats her knock, presses a cold finger to the buzzer. "Peter Jäger? This is Sheriff Swan! May I please - "

She glances just in time to see a figure push out the back door and take off running across the yard, hopping over the fence. Emma turns behind her and waves her arm wildly at the car. "GO! GO!" She shouts, turning from Regina and streaking through the rain, umbrella dropping from her grip, immediately drenched in liquid ice but her lungs beginning to burn as she chases after the figure ahead fading into the fog.

_Dammit. Why do they always have to run?_


	5. The Case of the Missing Pets I

Storybrooke mornings are always a little beautiful, even in the cold grey, even with the rain. It strikes against every window of the apartment, a chill slipping between the cracks, the two drowsy occupants pulling sweaters over their pajamas and wrapping themselves in blankets, stumbling across the scattered carpets and cheap rugs used to soften the cautious treading of bare feet across a floor that creaks.

" _G'morning_." Mary Margaret mumbles, walking blindly, her eyes still mostly sealed shut.

" _Coffee_." Emma manages in between yawns, passing her roommate on her way to their shared bathroom, ducking her head and burying her face in a splash of cold water.

Despite the gloom, streams of light always manage to break through the sky, a moonlit sun that floods the town with an almost ethereal glow, a heaven full of ghosts. The walls of the apartment are a peeling yellow, and the ceiling has cracks, the floor creaks, and none of the furniture seems to match. Everything is rotting and old but Emma loves the light, and the fact that their view from the windows is a blinding white, like the world is impossibly clean, nothing dirty exists and can get in.

The apartment is starting to feel a little bit more like a home, or at least a safe place where Emma can just… be. She brushes her teeth and listens as Mary Margaret switches the radio on, just long enough to catch a little bit of Storybrooke's morning broadcast.

" _...a dalmatian male that answers to the name 'Pongo' was last seen…_ "

Emma gurgles mouthwash and cold water, the sound flooding her own ears, blocking out the rest of whatever remains of the broadcast, spitting into the sink and wiping a towel against her mouth. The sound of the radio is overtaken by the whirring of their coffee machine and Mary Margaret rustling through the kitchen cabinets and their well stocked, though increasingly disorganized, fridge.

"Scrambled?" Mary Margaret calls out, her sleepy voice squeezed between that narrow space of strained shouts and pained groans.

Emma pokes her head out of the bathroom, and shrugs. "Meh."

"I could make an omelette instead."

"Mmmmm."

"Onions and tomatoes?"

"Mhm." Emma nods before withdrawing her head, closing the door and reaching for the shower knob, its metallic creak echoing through the apartment until the sudden downpour drowns it out.

There's a light blinking on the message machine settled on the kitchen counter. Mary Margaret gathers her ingredients and supplies, chewing on her lip before deciding on red onions over white, and starts organizing the materials in a neat fashion on the countertop, pausing in her process to press a button on the machine and listen to the messages play out, her fingers dancing across the smooth, cold surface of a dozen organic brown farm eggs.

" _Hello, you've reached the residence of Mary Margaret Blanchard and…_ " There's an expectant pause, before a second voice grumbles out, " _Emma._ " There's a warm chuckle in the background before the first voice takes over. " _Please leave your name, number, the time and date of when you are calling, and we shall be sure to call you back as soon as possible._ "

There are only two messages on the machine; the first is from Richard Herman, who calls to confirm their class trip, and the second is from Doctor Whale, who starts by clearing his throat several times before inquiring over whether or not the sheriff is still alive.

" _...really don't appreciate the needless panic and blood trail you left behind…_ " Mary Margaret blinks into space before turning her head and staring at the machine, the beeping light continuing on as Whale speaks, dimming out when finally the message stops. " _...which begs the question as to who your emergency contact would be. You have my number, so let me know._ "

She goes back to work on making breakfast, a steaming pot of coffee already prepared by the time Emma steps out of the shower and walks into the kitchen, her hair damp and still dripping, wrapping a much favored fuzzy yellow robe around her body.

" _Hello, lover_." Emma's voice husks with blatant need, bumping her roommate out of the way in her quest for coffee, a mournful sigh ripping her throat as she pours the scalding liquid into a mug, forced to wait a few seconds more for it to cool down.

Mary Margaret can't fight the wide grin that spreads, keeping Emma in her peripheral vision while she slices the red onions in the sink beneath a thin stream of running water to prevent herself from tearing up. "Did you sleep well?"

Emma leans against the kitchen cabinets behind Mary Margaret, tilting her chin up and closing her eyes, gulping fistfuls of black coffee down her bulging throat. "Guh huh."

"I did too." Mary Margaret says, rather pointedly, but without much bite, a grin still teasing her tone.

Emma smiles and swallows, a ripple of pleasure stripped across her tongue, savoring the coffee flavor. "Sorry, can't be civilized on just one cup."

"I'll wait… wait, how many cups does that take? I have  _never_  known you to be - "

Emma cuts her off with a sarcastic laugh, rolling her eyes and replenishing her mug with the precious, scalding resource. "I'm plenty civilized, thank you."

Sometimes it's hard to know how much teasing will push Emma past the edge of playful pouting towards a self deprecating view of how she was brought up with no home, no family, no manners so Mary Margaret just lets the tease drift between them. She turns back towards the onions she's almost finished slicing, turning off the water and gathering the red peels in her hands, resting them on the chopping board.

After a moment, Emma knocks her head back again, an unabashed moan throbbing the cold, morning air as she drains the steaming liquid. A puddle of warmth begins to form in her belly, and electrical sparks are sputtering inside her head, bouncing back and forth, illuminating dark and shady corners, every contorted nook and cranny, until all of her is beginning to fully wake up, and fully remember.

 _Get away from me!_ Emma suddenly cringes, her mind unwittingly replaying the mayor's infuriated shout.  _Don't touch me!_

Last night was a bad night, though now it is only an irritating blur of high pitch whistles, dog barks, the glassy eyes of a dead doe, the sharp pain of a cold knife sinking into soft, warm flesh, stumbling across the forest floor before crumbling in the mud, splattering blood, a small boy's small hand covering her own, leading her through a haze of smoke, skimming just above a wave of scattered noise and faceless ghosts, until someone else grasps hold and tugs her down from the riptide of storm clouds, a gentle spark across her lips, that warms her up like toasted marshmallows melting on her skin.

But when Mary Margaret asks, "How was last night?", Emma only shrugs and mutters something mostly unintelligible behind her mug of steaming coffee.

"Nothing terribly exciting happened?"

"Uh, nope." Emma thinks of dripping wounds, bruising kisses, the stinging pain of velvet nails scratched down the length of her spine.

"Because the hospital called," Mary Margaret strikes an egg against the rim of a glass bowl, her fingers pressing on the crack, pinching the shell until it gives way to a flood of yellow liquid oozing out in slow, languid drips, "and Doctor Whale left a message for you."

"...busted." Emma offers up a half grin of apology, pushing off the kitchen cabinets to come up beside her roommate behind the kitchen counter where an omelette is slowly being made.

"He made it sound like you had a brush with death."

"He's a drama queen."

"So you  _didn't_  run out of the hospital high off morphine with severe internal bleeding?"

"...there was no  _internal_  bleeding, I was just doing the regular bleeding thing." Emma makes a vague motion with her free hand. "Clearly I am fine, right now."

"Yes, you are." Mary Margaret frowns. "You don't look as if anything happened."

"Yeah… it's… it's a long story." Emma scratches the back of her head. "It has to do with an investigation I think I'm starting, so… no questions until it's over, okay? You don't need to worry about it."

Mary Margaret cracks another egg, and then another, the sound seemingly amplified within the apartment. "When anything involves you, I always worry."

"Gee, thanks."

"What I  _mean_  is that I care about you." Mary Margaret smiles. "Even if you are a terrible liar."

Emma rolls her eyes, and raises the coffee back to her lips. "It's too early for feelings."

"You're adorable."

"Shut up." Emma drains her third cup of coffee, and then glances around the vast array of ingredients. "Do you want me to do something?"

"Did you fix the toaster yet?"

"It's on my list."

"Okay, then… just set the table, please."

The wooden table rattles a little beneath the weight of two plates, two glasses, and a side platter of fruit. Emma pours them both some orange juice and pops a grape into her mouth before dropping to the floor and sliding a dictionary beneath the wobbly table leg, helping to steady it. The scent of onions, fresh tomatoes and eggs rises like a heavy coating of mist and clings to the walls and ceilings. Emma breathes it in, a small smile playing across her lips as she glances over towards Mary Margaret who continues to whisk.

It's getting harder and harder to remember that this isn't her home.

When the omelets are made, they sit down together at the table and immediately dig in. Their first breakfast together, Emma had been nervous that Mary Margaret was the type to say grace, but for all her piety and tenderness - and the fact that she works for nuns - her roommate once told her that she's not even sure she really believes in God.

( _"At least, not in that way, not how the book describes Him. I believe in something, a greater purpose, love and hope and people doing good… and I'll celebrate Christmas because it's fun, but that's as far as my religion goes."_ )

There are some things about Mary Margaret that are just really cool. Emma chews and swallows, the subtle crunch as her teeth spear an onion, glancing across the table before deciding that she owes it to her roommate to be the one to initiate some form of a conversation.

"So… what's on the agenda for you today?"

"Well, as you know, Henry's class is going on their field trip."

"Oh, right, yeah." Emma swallows another mouthful of omelette, her tongue already soaked in pepper flavor and onion juice. "They're camping out on a boat?"

"I believe they'll be kayaking to Shepherd Island, and setting up camp there." Mary Margaret glances over at the clock hanging upon the wall. "It's almost seven, so the kids should have arrived at the docks already. I'm actually a little surprised… actually very surprised that Regina let Henry go."

"You and me both."

"I mean, it would not have been unreasonable to punish him, considering…"

"Considering this was the second time he ran away and nearly got himself killed?" Emma shakes her head. "At least he'll be with a group of super sheltered, super preppy, small town kids, always supervised… I mean, how much trouble can you get into on an island?"

"You never read the copy of  _Lord of the Flies_  that I lent you, did you?"

"It's on my list." Emma defends, brow creased. "Why?"

"No reason." Mary Margaret hides a smile behind her orange juice. "Anyway, I won't have my kids back until Tuesday, so I'm taking on a few extra volunteer shifts at the hospital."

"You'd rather hang out with sick people than just enjoy a vacation?"

"I like to keep busy." A subtle smirk lingers just beneath a pleasant smile. "And you can be sure I'll find out what really happened to you last night."

Something slightly haunted flashes just behind ocean flavored eyes.  _Trust me, Mary Margaret, they don't even know the half of it._

* * *

There's something infinitely satisfying about cracking eggs against the side of a glass bowl. Regina relishes the violent sound, white yolk slipping through fragile shards like crimson blood oozing from a flesh wound, or the salt tears squeezed between the narrow corners of her eyes. Regina raises the back of her hand to her face, brushing the droplets away, provoked by the grouped clumps of diced onions, red peppers, and spicy sausage slices resting on the cutting board.

The windows of her kitchen look out onto the backyard. Colors of grey, blurred green and muddy brown shimmer like an ugly watercolor painting through the morning rain. Regina keeps her back to the dismal sight, focussing on the monotonous patterns of her life, trying to keep the memories of last night at bay.

_Hot breath on her ear, a wine soaked tongue trailing saliva across caramel flesh, eager hands grabbing at her curves and roughly palming her breasts, nipples straining through restrictive fabric, the rain pounding down on the roof of her car while two shadows fumble together inside, clumsy kisses and desperate moans preceding arching backs and panicked breath,_

_"Please, Emma, let me go..."_

Regina cracks another egg, a sharp hit against the side of the glass bowl, glaring into the murky yellow depths of her breakfast where Emma Swan's face stirs just beneath the surface, a demonic entity dressed in blonde halos and crooked smiles that shine through the darkness, lighting fires and laying siege to the already broken mess occupying Regina's dark heart.

Glancing over at the digital clock indented within the oven, noting that Henry has twenty more minutes before he's due to awaken, Regina turns around and presses a clean thumb against her iHome, activating one of several cooking playlists she's created for herself. Simon & Garfunkle's  _Bleeker Street_  spreads like a thin breeze through the tense atmosphere of her kitchen.

Learning to breathe again, Regina begins incisions on a ripe tomato, juice squirting between her fingers, humming along to Bruce Springsteen's  _Brilliant Disguise_. By the time Henry wakes up and makes his way downstairs, a few minutes earlier than expected, most of the tension in her back is loosened, wiping her hands on a wash cloth and letting the lyrics of Sade's  _Lover's Rock_  wash over her.

The door to the kitchen swings open, and the playlist concludes, leaving her feeling abruptly exposed and unprotected, tension once again rising up along her spine.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Regina's smile lacks warmth, a perfect row of gleaming white teeth that flash in her son's direction as he shuffles into the kitchen. "How did you sleep?"

If he gives an answer, Regina doesn't hear it, her ears already drenched with last night's shouts and accusations that itch and sting like a trail of mosquito bites spread across her skin. She grabs a whisk and attempts to drown out the sounds with a melody of wire clinking against glass, egg yolk splashing against the sides.

Henry's presence in her kitchen is fleeting, eyes squeezed shut and walking blind as an exaggerated yawn overtakes him, a lion cub stretching its mouth. His feet lead him to the fridge, jerking the door open and ducking inside, a burst of cold air that frosts over his face, fully waking him up. He grabs a gallon of orange juice, unscrews the cap, tilts his head back, parts his lips and glugs down the thick liquid gushing down his throat.

 _My little prince_. Regina's lips threaten a smile before she remembers how angry she is with him. When he leaves, he glances her way, and she feels his gaze but keeps her own studiously fastened to the bowl of yolk.

Happy that his mother seems distracted, Henry dashes from the kitchen, through the living room, towards the foyer, jumping down the small series of steps and skidding in front of the door. It's nearing seven o'clock, which means August is due to stop by any minute. Henry crouches in front of the mail slot, his ear pressed against the door, listening for the sounds of a motorcycle revving, speeding down the quiet road that leads to Mifflin Street.

_Knock Knock_

Henry falls back in surprise, the sound reverberating through the wood. Wincing at the soreness in his bottom, he crawls forward and carefully pushes open the mail slot, peeking through to find August's bright blue eyes and crinkled smile gazing right back at him.

"Hey, buddy."

"Where's your bike?" Henry creases his brow. "You were supposed to do the signal."

"She's in the shop. You can blame Emma for that." August frowns in memory. "Anyway, is our operation a go?"

"Wait here." Henry lets the metallic slot fall closed, shooting up and turning to sprint up the stairs, his feet tripping clumsily over every few steps.

August salutes the door, straightening up from his crouch and glancing around the wealthy neighborhood.  _Quiet... pleasant... boring._  He scuffs his boot against the side of one of the mansion's Greek-style columns, tracking dirt across pristine marble.

"Pssst! August! Up here!"

The balcony windows of the mayor's master bedroom fling open, inviting in the Autumn cold. Gusts of wind rush through the hallways, pouring down the stairs, crashing against the walls, rustling the curtains in every room. Still in the kitchen, Regina looks up from strips of bacon sizzling in the pan, its heady aroma tampering with her senses, urging her to ignore the inexplicable warning bells ringing at the forefront of her mind, where a vein visibly throbs in her temple. She's about to investigate, when suddenly her cellphone begins to vibrate, settled beside the sink.

Upstairs, Henry leans over the railings, unconcerned and grinning happily down at his friend and ally. Secured in his arms is the book of fairytales he hasn't entrusted to anyone other than himself, Miss Blanchard and Emma. Now he raises it above his head, skinny arms grappling a little with the surprising weight. "Catch!"

 _Once Upon A Time_  arches through the air, its thick pages fluttering in the rush of wind. August raises his arms and catches the book with a hard thud against his chest. A low grunt escapes him, stumbling back a few paces, successfully managing to wrap his arms around the book, trapping it in a hug.

"Keep it safe for me!" Henry calls down.

August grins up at him, the mischievous expression softened by his beard. "Will do, Henry."

The town's newest stranger backs away, down the street, where the curve of the road is swallowed by the mist. From his mother's balcony, Henry can survey a large portion of the town, curling his fingers around the metal railing and resting his weight upon it.

The clock tower is a beacon of tarnished metal and black numerals. Henry notes the time before turning his head at the sound of Regina calling his name, following her voice out the master bedroom and down the stairs, where she's setting up their breakfast on the oval dining room table.

"Don't I have to go soon?" Henry plops down in his customary chair, legs dangling just above the turkish carpet, rubbing his bare feet together in an effort to ward off the cold, his many socks sacrificed last night for the amusement of his kitten. Onyx had been eager for the hunt.

"No, dear, the PTA just called. Your class won't leave until eight, they believe."

"Why?" Henry glances at his mother's cellphone, now resting on the dining table beside her plate.

Regina hadn't really listened to the voice tickling her ear, eyes latched onto every drop of rain staining the kitchen window, belly pressed up against the wet sink. "I gathered it had something to do with someone's incompetence."

Henry's nose scrunches up. "In-com-ence."

"Incompetence. When you're unable to do your job to my satisfaction."

"Are you gonna fire somebody?"

"Probably not today." Regina picks up her fork, spearing it through a sausage. "I tried something new for breakfast. Let me know if it's too spicy."

Taking that as a challenge, Henry bends over his plate, quickly shoveling piles of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Nomf - s'good."

Sparks tingle along the length of his tongue, color rising in his cheeks, but Henry is determined to push on, finish his meal. It takes nearly all of his concentration, throat burning for water, and Regina watches on with mild amusement, enjoying the scene and the relative silence that has befallen them.

After breakfast, Henry leaps up out of his seat, and volunteers to clear away the dishes. "I don't wanna be late, mom, and you shower too long. Do it now!"

There's a distinct hint of disrespect weaved in between natural boyish exuberance and the rare urge to be actually helpful, but Regina decides to let it pass. Their home feels too cold, and a hot shower would be heaven right now.

"Make sure to dress warm, and double check you've packed everything you'll need." Almost obediently, she pushes back her seat and heads upstairs to the master bathroom.

* * *

_Morning sex_ , David thinks, gazing up at his wife, his hands gripping her hips, keeping her in place even as she rocks within his restraints.  _Kinda great._

Other than the sound of rain tapping against glass, a subtle screech of tires as an early commuter skids around a sharp corner, splashing puddles through the dull, concrete streets, and a soft wet  _slap_  of flesh upon flesh, Kathryn's thighs quivering around her husband's stiff member, the Nolan's lovemaking remains fairly quiet.

David can almost feel himself slipping back into sleep, his body stretched comfortably across the soft mattress and barely crinkled sheets, his back propped up against an assortment of pillows, most of them holiday themed, one of them covered in reindeers setting down to Thanksgiving Dinner and warring over the last turkey, sewn together by Granny who'd given it to them as a  _welcome-back-from-your-coma_  gift.

While Kathryn straddles him, bobbing up and down, grinding a little into the hard muscles of his stomach, panting quietly, droplets of sweat trickling across the goosebumps scattered across her freckled skin, slipping between her breasts, biting a little on her bottom lip, David merely helps keep her upright, smiling gently and enjoying the sensations, doing his best not to fantasize of another.

"Mmmmmm..." Kathryn smiles, closes her eyes, and tilts her head back, thin wisps of blonde hair tickling her own throat.

David's hands briefly leave her hips, slipping up the scale of his wife's thin frame, a calloused thumb brushing gently across an erect nipple. "Are you close?"

"Getting there..." A soft warmth erupts at the base of her belly. Kathryn squeezes her thighs tighter, prompting David's hands to drop and firmly clench at her peach bottom, kneading her flesh as he jerks his hips, burrowing deeper inside her. " _Oh_...  _yes_..."

Their bedroom is cast in a peculiar shade of pale light; a tinted green that shines through the window, poked and scratched by sharp branches and curious leaves brushed against the glass, weighed down by gentle droplets of rain and the looming threat of winter drawing near.

David's vision slips from his wife's flushed and panting form, blue eyes grazing floral patterned wallpaper, gold vines entwined with pink petals, following the path of tinted green, fixated on the leaves. His own pleasure begins to mount in the wake of his wife's rapid increase of gyrations... a mild chorus of grunts warming his throat... heart rate increasing... sweat pooling upon his brow... staring at the leaves...

_He's pounding into a girl with pale skin covered in grime and sweat, her raven hair coiled around his fists, tugging on the think curls... punishing her against the hard, unrelenting bark of willow trees, their world a blurred tempest of wind and rain and foggy grey... emerald eyes slit through the haze, unbearably bright, flushed parted lips panting, bare legs wrapped around his waist, her dirty nails sinking into his shoulder, accidentally tearing open a scar, blood trickling down chilled skin._

_Somehow he knows... there's not much time... they need to fight and keep moving and run, chased through a forest, an unrelenting swarm of enemies seeking to divide them. But he's burrowing himself to the hilt inside her warmth, moaning inside her sweet, cherry flavored mouth, a clash of teeth, she nibbles on his lip, seconds later soothing away the pain with a gentle suckle that leaves him hard again, stiffening inside her. The pain is unbearable, a desperate ache that cannot be soothed with a quick -_

_"Charming, fuck me harder!"_

His vision sparks white, a wave of heat sweeping over him, just as the memory slips away, completely out of reach. When he comes to, Kathryn's face is burrowed in the crook of his neck, her shallow breaths teasing his skin, her warm body draped across his. David blinks for an extended period of time, finally turning from the haunting press of leaves against glass, his blue gaze seeking the time.

"Don' go," Kathryn mumbles against his neck, feeling him begin to shift beneath her, "we have plenty of time."

"I promised Doctor Thatcher I'd open up for him." David kisses her shoulder before turning away, tugging his legs out from beneath an entrapment of cotton sheets and mangled limbs.

 _My husband has a cute butt._  Kathryn smiles a little, watching him get dressed. He's pretty without being effeminate, a sort of rugged quality in the hard lining of his jaw, where a pale scar is poorly disguised by peach fuzz, and she enjoys the feel of his hands, a delicate graze across her skin, keeping the darkest of his urges at bay.

"Are you seeing the sheriff today?"

"Emma?" David stiffens, awkwardly tugging on his jeans. "Why would I?"

Kathryn frowns. "To ask about Theodore. You didn't forget, did you?"

"No, of course not." David buttons up his shirt, relief washing across his face. "I talked to her about it yesterday. She said she'll keep an eye out for him."

"That was it?" Unable to muster up the proper level of rage due to a lingering mild dosage of post-coital afterglow, Kathryn only rolls over on her back, pouting up at the ceiling. "Unacceptable. First, she won't investigate the break-in, and now she refuses to look for my rabbit? Regina was right; Emma Swan is a lousy sheriff."

The mattress sinks beneath his weight, as David steadies himself and tugs on rubber boots. "There's been a number of pets that've gone missing, and stuff going on. I'm sure she's just feeling overwhelmed."

"By  _what_? Not helping  _anyone_?"

"Henry running away..."  _Helping Mary Margaret break into our house._  "But, in any case, I'm sure we'll find Theo soon enough."

"Hmph." Kathryn rolls back onto her side, watching him continue to get dressed. "I hope so."

"I  _know_  so." David twists around to lean forward, soft mattress sinking deeper beneath the weight of his palm, pressing his mouth firmly against Kathryn's.

The promise mollifies his wife, seeing David a little more easily out the door, leaving her to bask in uneasy bliss for a few hours more before she's due to report to her own office. Without time for a shower, David leaves his umbrella behind, stepping out the door and hopping off the porch, splashing mud and bathing his skin with cool droplets of New England rain.

A vibration stemming from the pockets of his jeans causes a faint tingle to tease David's thighs. Stuffing a hand inside his pants, David draws the cellphone out, glancing at the number before bringing it to his ear. "Doctor Thatcher?"

" _David, sorry to bother you, I know you asked for the day off, but I have Richard Herman here, at the shelter. He's rather frantic over losing his parrot. Obviously flew off, but he says the cage was still locked up when he went to check up on it. Could you meet him at his house and help track it down?_ "

"I don't know... I'm kind of..." _  
_

" _My daughter's class can't leave for their trip today until this is dealt with. Dick's helping to lead the expedition. I'm sure all the students and their parents, including myself, would appreciate this._ "

"It's not that I..."

" _Everyone knows how good you are at tracking down animals._ " Doctor Thatcher's voice deepens with impatience, and David can hear the sad whining of disregarded puppies adding to the background chorus. " _Will you please help us out?_ "

"I - yeah... yes, of course." David sighs, screwing his eyes shut. "What's his address?"

Casting nervous glances over his shoulder at a house that should feel like home, David crosses dew soaked lawns and shallow puddles, mud clinging to his rubber boots. The call ends by the time he reaches his blue pick up truck, wrenching the door open and stiffly sliding in.  _She'll understand._

Cold fingers punch down on a series of numbers he's memorized by heart, for some reason always preferring to put in a little more effort when dialing Mary Margaret's land line. He listens to it ring, his own heart strings pulled taut. He's disappointed not to get to see her today, but maybe it's best not to meet up, with Kathryn's peach scent still clinging to his skin, and the taste of his wife still fresh upon his lips.

* * *

Mary Margaret enjoys the sight of Emma's hair, finally dry, curling up on all sides, tumbling over her best friend's shoulders, a golden sheen to a lion's mane that the school teacher always finds makes her pale fingers twitch with longing.

"You're staring."

Mary Margaret starts, jerking a little in her seat, eyes scattered wildly around the room before refocussing on matching Emma's gaze. "Sorry."

Emma quirks a brow from across the table, before a playful smirk takes over her face. "See something you like?"

Mary Margaret lifts her glass of orange juice, hiding the blush on her face. Sometimes she finds herself feeling weird  _things_  for Emma that don't seem sexual to her, more like a focussed beam of intensified energy that pulls her toward the other woman. She wants to touch, she wants to talk, she wants the freedom to simply latch her gaze onto Emma's body, as if she has any right to it.

The phone rings, an obnoxious jingle disturbing the relative quiet peace of their apartment, saving her from attempting any sort of reply.

Emma glares in its direction. "Isn't there a law that you can't call someone before eight?"

"No." Mary Margaret giggles a little, pushing back her seat and walking towards the kitchen. She lifts the phone from its cradle, and with slightly exaggerated joyfulness, exclaims, "Good morning!"

Emma rolls her eyes, but immediately snorts when her roommate's face colors and stammers out David Nolan's name. ' _Way to go,_ ' Emma mouths, grinning and holding up two thumbs.

" _About this morning..._ " David's voice seems scrambled between static, and the gentle rain falling on both ends of the town.

Emma can make out bits of the conversation, as she stands from the table, clearing away their dishes and dumping them into the sick, about to start washing and drying before a suddenly irritated Mary Margaret motions her away, the lines around her mouth tensed and drawn out.

" _...hope you understand._ "

"Don't be silly, David, of course I understand." Mary Margaret paces the length of her kitchen, pale face reddening with an influx of mixed emotions that stem from the very best and worst parts of herself. "Don't I always?"

Emma withdraws to her bedroom, throwing off the fuzzy yellow robe and pajamas. The cold air hits her skin, goosebumps prickling down the length of her arms, creeping up to irritate the base of her neck. Despite this, she dresses slowly, giving Mary Margaret her space. Thankfully the conversation doesn't last long.

"For goodness sake's David! You don't have to be so contrite. It's not as if we're dating. You've made it perfectly clear that we're just friends. And as your friend, of course I understand that your work needs to come first."

Emma tugs on her jeans, the blue fabric tightly clinging to her form, trying not to hear every word.

"And your wife." Mary Margaret's voice snaps from the kitchen. "And your  _fucking_  ego."

Brown eyebrows shoot up towards a blonde hairline, Emma finishing up with strapping the gun holster around her waist, and shrugging on her uniform jacket. When she pulls open the door and pokes her head out, she finds Mary Margaret hunched over the kitchen counter, glaring at the phone.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"We were supposed to meet up for breakfast. He stood me up. Again."

Emma's brow crinkles up. "But... we just had breakfast."

"We were supposed to meet up for breakfast almost twenty minutes ago at the park.  _I_  stood  _him_  up to show him that he couldn't take me for granted anymore. That he couldn't have my friendship without finally showing me he respected me." Mary Margaret's following words are nearly choked out by a strangled cry constricting her throat. "But he doesn't even - he doesn't - he still thinks - "

Emma crosses the room, rubber boots thumping on the loose floorboards creaking beneath her weight. The hesitation clear on her face, she awkwardly lifts her hand, and places it on her best friend's arm, a move mostly copied from movies she's sometimes glanced through on tv.

Miraculously, the warmth of her palm immediately calms Mary Margaret down, her body unclenching. "I don't know what I was thinking. We obviously can't be friends. He drives me crazy, and he's been... he hasn't  _meant_  it, but he's been mean to me."

"Yeah."

"I wish - I don't know why it hurts knowing I can't ever be with him. I wish I didn't feel this way." Mary Margaret sighs. "Do you think I'm pathetic?"

"No." Emma tells her seriously. "You can't help how you feel. But you also stood up for yourself and gave that jerk a piece of your mind. Maybe that was the push he needed to realize how he ought to treat you if he really does want to be friends."

"A piece of my mind?" Mary Margaret looks confused.

"Well, you cursed at him anyway. Something should have gotten across."

"Oh, that." Mary Margaret's eyes drop, her expression immediately sheepish. "He'd already hung up before I said that."

"...still, though." Emma fumbles awkwardly. "Totally not pathetic."

* * *

Even with the water running, ears soaked in steam, Regina can easily make out the familiar notes of the clock tower. The bells chime, sounds rising and fading like a pendulum of sound, echoes chasing after echoes, flowing through the empty streets, teasing tsunamis of melody but all that lands is vague ocean spray, leaving the town unsatisfied.

Regina sighs and bows her head beneath the shower head, swallowed by the downpour, dark strands flattening against her head, barely reaching the base of her neck. Her palms flatten against the marble walls, leaning into the unrelenting surface, listening to the bells continue to chime, now ringing solely inside her head.

They never used to ring. All that they are is an hourly reminder of her curse weakening... a queen's demise nearing... and the orchestrator of her fitting end, Emma Swan.

_Did you ever think I could maybe be your friend?_

Regina jerks her head up, spluttering water as the shower pours into her parted mouth, for a second convinced that the voice's owner had been standing right there, cool breath teasing the curve of her ear. Taking this as a sign to step out and towel off, Regina checks the time on her bedroom clock, making sure to not keep her son waiting too long.

"Henry?" She peeks into his room before continuing downstairs, wearing her favorite grey dress, dark makeup painted across her lips, shadowing her eyes. The straps of her heels hang over her fingers until she reaches the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the wall as she carefully puts them on. Henry's backpack, bulging from the weight, and his camping tent are settled near the front door while her black Prada purse is resting on the foyer table.

"Time to go, dear!" She calls out again, reaching into her purse for her cellphone, intending to check her messages.  _Where did I leave...?_

Just as she turns around, gaze sweeping across the surface of the dining room table, Henry bursts out from the kitchen, triumphantly slapping his mother's cellphone down upon the wood, before glancing up and freezing at the sight of her, jumping back several feet from the table as if to erase the act.

"Um..." Henry nervously stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat, playing with a balled up piece of paper, the hard texture rolling against his soft palm, bravely standing his ground as his mother strides forward, her shadow looming over him. "Ready to go?"

It's a clumsy effort, unworthy of a Mills, and Regina glares down at his guilty expression. " _What_ were you doing with my cellphone?"

"...Tetris?" Seeing her face darken, Henry adopts a more neutral expression. "I called Emma."

"Shocking." Regina grits her teeth. "Henry, I explicitly forbade - "

"I had to - you wouldn't let us say goodbye."

"Do not  _ever_  interrupt me, Henry, especially when you're only doing so to lie to my face." Regina snatches her cellphone off the table. "You saw Miss Swan  _just_  last night."

"But I forgot to tell her something." Henry shifts uncomfortably. "I won't do it again." He'll be stuck on an island until Tuesday, where cellphone reception is reportedly unreliable at best.

Regina crosses her arms, fingers tightening their hold around her cellphone. "And what was so important it couldn't wait until after your punishment had been lifted?"

"I told her not to fight you." Henry finds an interesting spot on the carpeted floor and stares at it. "I told her not to fight you and that we're family."

There's a pause. Regina continues to stand with her arms still crossed, an inscrutable expression masking her face. It hardens the edges, the sharp lines indented around her mouth, naturally plump lips stretched into a thin line. Henry chances a glance, guarding his own expression with far less skill.

"You think of us... you, myself and Miss Swan... as family." Regina struggles not to raise the volume of her voice, outrage and incredulity fighting for dominance within her throat. "That's what you think."

"Um, yeah."

Another drawn out pause. Regina is thrown by the admittance, and by her own conflicted feelings on the subject. Henry is  _hers_. She doesn't want to share him as a son, she can barely tolerate sharing him as a student any miserable teacher could have an influence on, or as a person the world could swallow whole.

But... she's included in this less-than-ideal scenario, and that's more than Henry's given her in a while.  _If he's even telling me the truth.  
_

"I have told you repeatedly not to use my cellphone. There is no suitable excuse for using it without my permission ever. Expect a punishment for when you return home from your trip." Regina uncrosses her arms, bending down until she and her son are eye level. "Do you understand me?"

He nods, his expression somewhat contrite, though he is largely unconcerned with what she will deal out as punishment. He only wants to break her curse, and hang out with Emma, things he won't ever let Regina stop him from doing.

"Good. Now, get your things together and - "

"I have to say goodbye to Onyx!" Henry interrupts, brushing past her and bounding off, his boots thumping on the floor.

"Young man - !" Her growl falls short of his ankles, disappearing around the corner. Regina thinks of stalking after him, but he will be absent from her life until Tuesday, and she doesn't want the last words hanging between them to be ones boiling in oil, no matter how infuriating every action he commits has become. She stuffs her phone inside her purse, tears open the front door and resolves to wait for him outside.

Henry pushes open the door to Regina's study, which has been partially converted into their kitten's home. In front of the mahogany desk, Onyx is snuggled into the carpet, her tiny body sandwiched between a clump of old stuffed animals from Henry's adolescence. Stepping over the wall of lego blocks built to prevent her escape, Henry bends down to stroke her dark fur, a soft graze of his thumb, grinning at the soft mewl she makes, paws twitching in her sleep, as if she's dreaming of the hunt.

 _Take care of mom._  Henry straightens up.  _D_ _on't let her do anything evil._

* * *

David tracks a clump of red feathers from one side of town to the other, clambering out of his truck and jogging through the forest, taking the path that leads him close to Mifflin Street. The light rain has slowed to a nearly inexistent trickle with several seconds to spare between each drop. Nevertheless, the fog blanketing the town remains a thick grey, patches of blinding white blooming wherever the sun strains to break through.

Where dirt and pavement merge, a streetlamp rises from the ground, marking the end of the forest path. David steps carefully around some broken glass, sprinkled shards surrounding a baseball, glancing up to see a pair of sneakers hanging around the neck of the lamp, the laces tied together. A mild breeze passing through the street causes them to sway. David stuffs his hands in his coat pockets and steps onto the street. _  
_

The neighborhood is quiet. A few houses have their lights on, their shadows passing behind curtained windows. David's rubber boots purposefully _squelch_  in the mud, the sound keeping him company.

"If I was a bird..." Bright blue eyes scan the area, the rooftops of classic New England mansions, the heads of trees, a hint of red fluttering between the branches. "...where would I be?"

He turns a corner onto Mifflin Street, where the mayor's house looms at the very end of the block, towering above the trees. David thinks about turning around. Although he tentatively considers Regina a friend, it feels like trespassing simply by looking at her house without an invitation. But, amazingly, there is a small pile of bowl-movement in the middle of the road, the size of bird droppings.

A patch of blinding white opens up within the clouds just above him. David raises a hand to shield his eyes, cutting his gaze across the sky, around the trees, before continuing forward towards Regina's home.

He reaches the perfectly trimmed hedges, the metal gate neatly squeezed in between, just in time for the front door to tear open, and a clearly irritated Regina Mills stepping out into the world, dragging some luggage across the threshold. She glances up to see him, too startled by his presence to move away from the door, which slams shut behind her, hitting her squarely in the behind. A light yelp catches in her throat, chocolate eyes flashing wide at the sudden pain before forcibly calming down two seconds later. "David!"

He almost laughs, the corners of his mouth twitching, but is too much of a gentleman to do so. "Good morning, Madame Mayor."

"What are you doing here?" Her son's backpack drops with a loud  _thump_  upon the marble steps beside her feet. "Shouldn't the clinic be open by now?" She offers up a tense smile, as if to take the sting out of her suspicion.

"Yeah, I'm just passing by."

"My house?"

"Well, it's a beautiful house." David smiles back at her, curling his fingers around metal spikes, leaning forward and resting his weight upon the mansion's gate. "And also I was sort of led here. You haven't seen a fugitive parrot flying around, have you?"

She arches a single brow, and David quickly launches into an explanation; trying to find Dick Herman's pet, following a trail of feathers and bird poop, the occasional cry resonating somewhere in the distance.

"...because the class was looking forward to having the bird with them." David finishes up, regarding why Doctor Thatcher had called him.

" _That's_  why the trip was delayed?" Regina rolls her eyes. "Well, whatever, feel free to look around but I think you're better off searching somewhere else. I haven't seen anything."

"Oh, yeah, Henry's going on the trip too." David pushes open the gate, striding down her pathway. "I had loads of fun on the island when I was his age. Got into plenty of trouble."

"I don't doubt that."

"Oh, like  _you_  never got into any trouble?" David grins, reaching the marble steps and Greek columns. "You know, they say the quiet ones are the - "

"Hi, Mr. Nolan!" The front door swings open and Henry bursts outside, beaming up at his grandfather.

"Oh - hey, Henry." David lowers his hand for a high-five with the kid. "Oooh - too slow!"

Henry laughs, swiping air after David pulls away. "What do they say about quiet ones?"

"Heh, um..." David scratches the back of his head, a sheepish smile spread across his face. "Only that they're the secretly wonderful, kind, forgiving sort?"

"Oh." Henry furrows his brow, while Regina smirks at David over her son's shoulder. "So... why are you here?"

"Good question! Interesting story, actually. You haven't seen a parrot...?" David jumps back into the story again, finding a much more captive audience in Henry, than in his mother who pointedly bends down for Henry's overstuffed backpack. David immediately leaps to attention, insistently tugging on the bag, urging it out of her arms and into his own.

"Here, let me get that."

"Oh, no, you don't have to..." Regina's voice trails off as he lifts, only a mild grunt warming his throat, muscles flexing between checkered plaid fabric.

"Real convincing there." David teases, hugging the backpack to his chest, craning his neck to settle his chin atop of it. "C'mon, lead the way."

Regina makes sure to lock the front door, before leading her son and David both around the side of the mansion, stepping onto the driveway, and popping open the trunk of her Mercedes. Henry practically bounces on the ground around David, eager to hear more about the missing parrot, a little disappointed to learn that David has no idea of the larger conspiracy at play.

"You think someone's stealing the town's pets?" David smiles indulgently at the kid, loading up the car with his large tent and a smaller bag of excessive supplies Henry believes he will need for entertainment on the island.

"Yup, but don't worry, Emma's on it." Henry declares proudly. "The Savior can defeat anyone."

"Henry, enough." Regina unlocks the front doors. "Mr. Nolan doesn't want to hear about your ridiculous stories."

"I'm not talking about  _you_ ," The corners of his mouth dip into a mild pout, "it's another villain she's gonna fight."

"What's he talking about?" David closes the car trunk, glancing quizzically from mother to son.

"Childish nonsense." Regina dismisses with a wave of her hand, grasping Henry's shoulder and steering him towards the passenger seat.

"It's  _not_ \- " Henry begins hotly, but his mother interrupts him.

"How would you like to sit up front today?"

"Really?" He immediately perks up, clambering inside. "Bye, Mr. Nolan!"

Regina releases an aggravated breath, careful not to slam the door on her son.

David cocks his head, watching her. "You okay?"

"Of course." Regina doesn't look at him for a moment. "Thank you for helping."

"Hey, no problem."

"Good luck with the bird." Regina opens the driver's side and slides inside, adjusting herself behind the wheel while Henry fumbles a little with his seatbelt beside her.

David salutes the tinted windows, backing away several paces, watching the car roll off the driveway, the soft crunch of gravel crushed beneath the weight of the rubber wheels. Henry twists in his seat to wave at the shadow imprint of his grandfather standing beside their house, the figure growing smaller and smaller as the car picks up speed upon the pavement, disappearing around the street.

"Alright..." David raises his gaze to the nearest trees, the roof of the mansion, circling around the entire perimeter. "If I was a bird, where would I be...?"

* * *

After breakfast, Emma leaves her roommate with the dirty dishes and the pipes which clank loudly every morning, a zig zag of sound that haunts the apartment. She pulls an umbrella over her head, the faint drizzle teasing splashes upon the bright red, crossing the street before she reaches the sidewalk corner, a burst of noise erupting in her head, some kind of mixed combination of both Mary Margaret and Regina's voices lecturing her on safety.

_Honestly, Emma!_

_Really, Miss Swan!_

Sometimes it amuses her how much they dislike each other considering how similar they can be, albeit nothing about her roommate is absurdly cruel or suspicious. Last night's desperate kisses and stifled moans echo in the wind, the shallow splash of her boots trudging towards the sheriff's station, goosebumps prickling her skin beneath the protective layer of her uniform jacket, trying to distract herself from the mayor with thoughts of the odd man with the pipes, the dog attack on her car, the dead doe, all these pets disappearing from town.

She's nearing Town Hall when a vibration tickles her skin through the jeans, shifting the handle of her umbrella from one hand to the other, stuffing cold fingers into her pocket and pulling out her phone, eyes growing wide as she checks the number that comes up.

"R-Regina?" Her voice sputters out, all too hopeful with ripples of amazement and disbelief. "God, I didn't think you'd call. I can't begin to - "

" _Emma, it's me!_ " Henry's excitable greeting breaks in, slightly muffled as if he's munching on something, and she can hear the distinct crunch between his teeth. " _I didn't get to say goodbye._ "

Disappointment merges with relief, and Emma presses her back against the nearest building, the umbrella slanting to the right, slow droplets falling into her curls. "Kid, please tell me you haven't stolen your mom's phone." A sigh seeps through her voice, like steam. "Again."

" _I wouldn't have to borrow people's phones if someone just gave me my own._ " Henry grumbles out the words, but there's a shamelessness to his actions because he continues to believe every order he disobeys and each line he crosses is only for the greater good, and only because he's working tirelessly to end his mother's evil curse. " _But this time mom said I could call you._ "

"Is that true?"

" _Yes… but if you don't trust me, I can just hang up now._ "

A prickling of guilt irritates her skin, overriding her lie detector, and despite the fact she has every reason not to trust him due to last night's antics, and those the week before, Emma can't help the flush of warmth she feels whenever Henry's enthusiasm swarms her, the heavy press of ocean waves and the rattling of chains weighing her down like an anchor digging into sand.

"No, don't hang up."

" _I don't wanna be a bother._ " Henry's voice has grown incredibly soft, teetering back and forth between sullen and polite, plaintive but respectful, with something mischievous flitting around the curve.

"C'mon, kid." Emma squirms with discomfort, chewing on her lip, raindrops falling with slightly increased frequency onto clammy skin and soft hair. "You know you're never a bother. I just don't want your mom to - "

" _I understand if she scares you._ "

"She doesn't scare me!"

" _Okay, but I don't want you to worry about getting in trouble._ " She grits her teeth, listening to him holding back a laugh, fighting to prevent the corners of her own mouth twitching in appreciation of his manipulation. " _I just thought you were stronger than -_ "

"Oh, shut up." She rolls her eyes, easily giving in, enjoying any excuse to circumvent the mayor's orders and talk to her son. "Mary Margaret said your class was already gone by now. Are you guys at the docks yet?"

" _Nope, it got delayed an hour._ "

"Why?"

" _I dunno, something about... something. Anyway! Guess what?_ "

"Where's your mom?"

" _In the shower. We have time. She always takes forever._ "

"Yeah, I'm aware." Emma frowns, glancing across the street through the tentative downpour, towards the apple trees whose branches bounce within the wind, emerald leaves fluttering beneath the rain. "She used up all the hot shower when we were all in the - "

" _Emma,_ " Henry huffs into the line, itching to share his news. " _Can I tell you now?_ "

"...yeah, yeah, okay sure." Emma watches the tendrils of smoke drift out from her nostrils, coiling around the cool, crisp New England air. "But your mom really does know you're talking to me, yes?"

" _Scout's honor, Emma!_ " She can feel his grin from the other side of town, and lets the warmth of his mischief wash over the vibrating ache of her lie-detector. " _Okay, so, I figured out who August is and why he's here._ "

"You did, huh?"

" _Yeah, and he's a good guy, he's on our side._ " Henry lowers his voice, still slightly muffled from whatever he's been eating. " _Remember I told you the Dark One has a son..._ "

Emma plays with the handle of her umbrella while her adorably, clinically insane child weaves more details into the elaborate web of fairytales and conspiracy theories he's draped across the town. She had never been this imaginative as a kid, save for those few, vivid nightmares of being visited by shadows, plucking at her pajamas, pinching her pale skin, as if trying to physically draw out pieces of her soul. They used to linger just outside the window, she could feel their glances grazing her skin, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, begging her foster parents not to leave just yet, keep the light on, draw the curtains, anything in the hopes that the shadows might be kept at bay.

" _...can make amends for the sins of his father._ " Henry finishes his recitation of a well memorized quote from the book.

Emma peers up at the sky, happy to see the light drizzle slowing down, cold droplets clinging to her lashes, the ends of her blonde curls. "Well, that sounds great, kid."

" _I know!_ " A heavy sigh seeps through the conversation. " _You're finally getting it, Emma. I knew you would._ "

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

" _You just had to start believing in things you couldn't see and have faith._ "

"Seemed like the logical thing to do."

" _It's the exact opposite of logic! That's the point!_ " Henry cuts himself off abruptly. " _Thought I heard mom coming down. Anyway, I won't be back until Monday. Promise you won't break the curse without me?_ "

"Cross my heart."

" _I'm serious, Emma. You have to wait until I get back._ "

"Swear on my life, kid. No curse breaking until you say so."

" _Cause we're a team._ " A rush of warmth floods through his voice, and despite the fact that her son is really, truly, certifiably insane, and despite the fact that she's possibly irresponsibly pandering to his harmful delusions, Emma can't seem to get enough of this addictive rush of pride that crashes through her and bowls her over whenever she manages to please him in this way.

"Okay, yes, sure, whatever." She fights off the goofy grin spreading across her face.  _My son likes me!_ "Tell me about the trip."

" _It's going to be awesome! Dick and Jim are gonna..._ " Emma pushes off the wall and resumes her walk towards the station, the soft squelch of her boots traipsing through the muddy ground, ducking her head to avoid the hard branches of the mayor's prized apple trees.

Their conversation carries her across the next few blocks, a helpless smile softening the hard lines of her face as she listens to him chatter on about the boating trip, the soft  _crunch crunch crunch_  of brown and yellow leaves dying beneath her feet, nodding absently to various citizens passing through the New England Autumn gloom.

" _I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore._ " Henry's hesitation comes out in quick, uneven breaths. " _I only did what I did for you, Emma. I wanted to rescue you._ "

"I know you did, kid. And I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm really not, but you gotta understand that I don't need any rescuing, I don't need to be saved. I've been - "

" _I know! Because you're the Savior!"_

"No! It's - I'm not - Henry, I'm just trying to say that… I've been on my own for a very long time now. I'm used to taking care of myself. Nobody has ever looked out for me before, so I know how to handle anything that life throws at me." She sucks in a breath, sharp torrents of cool air. "I can handle anything."

" _I believe you, Emma._ " Henry's voice goes soft again, this time lacking manipulation, and Emma keeps walking but briefly closes her eyes, momentarily moving blindly down the block, fighting back the urge to cry. " _I'm really sorry._ "

"Don't apologize, it's okay, really. We can move on."

He's silent for a few seconds, but Emma can make out voices in the background, the rush of wind, imagining the crash of grey and green waves against the docks and pier.

" _...oops, mom's coming down. I think we're getting ready to leave anyway._ "

"Have fun, kid! I'll see you soon!"

" _Emma, I - is it okay… you're still my mom, right?_ "

"You've already got a mom, kid." Emma swallows a lump in her throat. "But I can be your friend."

" _But we're still family right?_ "

"Yeah… yeah, kid, we are."

" _Then… family looks out for each other. So I have to look out for you, okay? And you can look out for me. And then we'll be even. You don't have to be alone anymore._ "

"Oh, Henry…" Emma slumps, slowing down while walking, her grasp weakening around the umbrella that tilts further to the side, cool droplets splashed against the nape of her neck, golden hairs standing on end.

" _I gotta go._ " There's a familiar  _click_  and then the line goes dead.

* * *

Shepherd Island is the one place outside of town citizens of Storybrooke can make their escape. Most of them have memories of visiting the island when they were unruly teenagers implanted into their brain, or simply from a school trip, kayaking across the grey lake and camping on the beach for about three days.

From the docks, where Henry's class is set to meet, the island looks like a floating forest, shrouded in mist, a hazy green reflection shimmering in the water, about five miles away. A row of kayaks and canoes bob in the water, tied to one another and the wooden pier. Jim, the school's physical fitness instructor, rests against one of the pillars and eats an egg salad sandwich from Granny's Diner, glancing from the grey water to his watch, counting the minutes until his class is due to arrive.

A black Mercedes is the first to appear, but lingers just around the corner, next to a saltines factory, instead of parking on the cement lot.

"Can I go now?"

"I don't relish this delay in your departure anymore than you do." Regina tells her son, equally uncomfortable with their enclosed proximity, but nevertheless keeps the doors locked and the heating on because it's a lot warmer and more comfortable inside the pristine leather interior than outside in the early winter cold. "But we are overdue for a conversation."

"I don't want to have a conversation." Henry unbuckles himself from the passenger seat, a slight snap as the strap cracks against the door.  _All you do is lie to me, I'm sick of it, I'm sick of you._

"We shall keep it short then. What have you done with the book?"

"What book?" Henry shifts in his seat, his body angled away from her, glancing through the window towards the docks where his coach is still resting, a few more cars pulling up and parking on the concrete, fourth and fifth graders spilling out and bounding towards the water.

"You know very well which book I am referring to." Regina frowns at him, her hands still clenched upon the wheel. "The one Miss Blanchard lent you."

"What do you care?"

"Henry, it's growing increasingly apparent that this  _work of fiction_  has had an alarmingly negative effect upon you. You're running away, you're being disrespectful, those appalling antics you were up to last night, the text you sent to Miss Lucas… you're worrying me, dear."

Henry grits his teeth, his glare settled on the glass window, a subtle frost grazing the surface.  _You just care about the curse, you don't care about me. But Emma's gonna beat you, and then we'll be together, and you can't stop us, you can't stop destiny and good always wins._

"Henry, look at me when I'm speaking to you." Regina relinquishes her hold on the wheel to unbuckle herself and twist in her seat, reaching forward to grasp his chin and force her son to face her, brown eyes boring into green. "Tell me where it is."

"Nowhere you can get to it." Henry jerks his head back, out of her grasp, leaving her fingers to clench the air in frustration. "It's safe away from you, and nothing you can ever do can make me give it up."  _You think you can bribe me with a cat, but I see through you and I know you're evil and you won't win._

Regina stares at him, her expression inscrutable, lips quirked as if on the verge of saying something cruel, her hand still hovering in the air, fingers tensed like a claw, as if still puncturing his skin. Henry turns his head away, gazing out the window again, towards the water that beckons with freedom, no matter how artificial it really is. Every inch of Storybrooke is the Evil Queen's creation, her cursed domain, and the water is no exception.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Regina demands, dropping her hand, fingers now clenched upon the leather. "I'm not out to destroy anybody, Henry. My only concern is your health and happiness, and ever since this book - "

"You're just mad because now I know the truth about everything."

"What you  _think_  you know is not - "

"You're the Evil Queen." Henry's gaze finds hers, a blinding green, as penetrating as Emma's, as infuriating as Snow's. "You are, aren't you?"

Regina doesn't blink, don't tear her gaze away. "I'm your mother, Henry."

"No you're not."

Regina leans forward, pain ripped across her expression. "What have I ever done to make you hate me this much? I have cared for and loved you since I met you, since you were three weeks old. I'm not some villain in a storybook, Henry, I'm a mother -  _your_  mother - and no matter how hard you try to push me away, I will always be that to you."

There's a pause, the force of her emotion pressing against his face, and Henry stares at her, as if seeing her for the first time.  _Do you love me?_

The words lump up in his throat. He swallows the question, an uncomfortable gulp slinking down his lungs and settling heavily in his chest. "I don't hate you."

"You don't?"

"No," He mumbles, and it's frightening how much that makes his mother smile, a vibrant beam that radiates off her face.

Half of him knows this could still be her manipulating him, making him feel guilty for casting her as some fictional villain, when he has no proof, only this sudden clarity that came to him ever since reading through and studying that book… and every year he grows a little taller, a little older and the rest of Storybrooke stays the same and it's maddening that he's the only one bothered by this!

But... maybe he really  _is_  crazy… or maybe he can just let this go, because his mother loves him… or says she does… she smells nice and feels warm, and maybe it would be best to just pretend.

"...the book." Regina is saying, and Henry lifts his gaze from the car floor. "I shouldn't have asked, and after all it's rightfully yours."

Henry stares at her.

"Just… I wish you would stop accusing me of being that awful person. Quite frankly, it hurts my feelings, and no matter what you believe, it's rude, honey, to say that to my face."

Swallowing hard, Henry drops his gaze to the floor again. "I don't want to hurt your feelings… but I don't want  _you_  to hurt Emma."

Up until this moment, Regina's demeanor has been one of borderline frustration and plaintive reasoning, but something inside of her snaps at her son's confession. " _Just_  last night - "

"I know you helped her, but - "

"What more do I have to do, Henry? How many ways must I continue to prove to you that I have no desire to hurt Miss Swan? Clearly saving her life is not enough, the fact that we worked together to find you was not enough. Should I take a bullet for her, Henry? The woman who threw you away and had to be dragged here kicking and screaming only to decide that she wants you  _only_  because  _I_  have you!"

"That's not - "

"You think she won't throw you away yet again? Cast you aside like trash she can't be bothered with once she's had her fun, once she's grown bored with you and tired of playing mommy? She could not love you as a baby,  _she did not want you_  the moment you were born, had not spared a thought about you for  _ten years_  until you tracked her down and dragged her away from a life far more exciting than Storybrooke. Do you really hope to compete with that? Do you really think after all this time Miss Swan would ever deign to choose  _you_?"

Henry feels bits of his heart splintering away like chunks of ice being chafed, ice shards sinking into his gut where the acid boils and churns, and the rest rising through his lungs, up his throat, choking up with the echoes of his own fears now decorated in his mother's voice, and her next, desperate words.

"Henry, sweetheart," The Evil Queen tells him, struggling to calm down, tears welling up in her beautiful, chocolate hued eyes, her own voice choked up and roughened, "I am all that you have. I am the only one ever on your side."

* * *

Mifflin Street ends with the mayor's mansion. The other houses linger on the edge, paling into the dull morning, barely noticeable in the exquisite shadow the mansion sheds. It's a suitable dwelling for a human, but nothing more than a magnificent cage for an animal, brainwashed into believing themself a pet, into believing their prison to be a home.

Peter Jäger crouches in the woods located behind the mansion, whispering these soft truths to the parrot balanced on his bare shoulder, its claws digging into his skin.  _You were a slave... now you are free._

Together, they watch one of the many slave-masters occupying the town roam around the mansion's perimeter. Peter recognizes the blonde man as working in the pet clinic, a future target of his holy mission. _  
_

For about ten minutes, David carefully circles the entire house, pausing every so often to cock his head and listen for any bird calls, able to differentiate the various species. It's not a talent he remembers learning, but he doesn't wonder why he knows it. Eventually, he begins to draw away from the mansion, edging closer to the woods. Peter stiffens in surprise, watching the man bend to a crouch, and discover a single red feather nestled between clumps of grass and brown leaves.

David frowns, twirling the feather between his fingers, lifting his gaze towards the woods that stretch on before him. Peter shrinks further into the shadows, grateful for the fog that blankets the morning, helping to camouflage his form. _  
_

_Don't come any closer. Don't come._

For the moment, David remains where he is, reaching into his pocket and drawing out his cellphone. Peter strains his hearing, missing the first few words of the conversation taking place a several feet away. Luckily, David doesn't feel the need to whisper.

"...will definitely find it, but it might take a while." David straightens from his crouch, cradling the phone to his hear while keeping his gaze trained upon the woods. "Look, just tell Dick that once I find it, I'll rent a boat and take the bird to him myself. There's no need to keep everyone else waiting."

Peter lifts a careful hand to his shoulder, silently encouraging the parrot to climb onto his wrist.  _I won't hurt you... I won't hurt you... don't be afraid, be quiet, very quiet._

He works swiftly, and silently, plucking feathers from the bird's body, and the parrot flinches but swallows her own painful squawks. Peter encourages her back upon his shoulder before hurrying deeper into the woods, creating a haphazard trail of feathers, and then doubling back towards the mansion where David has finished his phone call and is just entering the forest.

Peter presses himself against a tree, sucking in a breath and holding it, waiting until the man's heavy footsteps begin to fade, swallowed by the thick fog and forest. Peter smiles at the parrot on his shoulder.  _We have a new friend to make._

He slips from between the trees and darts forwards towards the magnificent cage. The rain begins to pick up again, soft splashes on the nape of his neck, too slow and hesitant to deter him from the mission.

* * *

Gradually, the docks become more crowded, more cars pulling up in front of the water, students spilling out in frenzied excitement, best friends linking hands and claiming one another as partners. A morose Richard Herman heaves out of his truck, grumbling at a few kids to get the hell out of his way, suffering a bad limp as he hobbles towards Jim.

"Where's the bird?"

"Fuck if I know." Richard leans against one of the wooden pillars on the docks. "Thatcher called to say they'd find her and bring her to the island later."

"All right, let's get this show on the road." Jim raises his hands and starts calling for attention, pulling out his attendance sheet and counting out how many students have currently arrived.

In addition to the families seeing their kids off, Sidney Glass drives up to the docks, his camera bumping against his chest, the leather strap cutting into the back of his neck. He starts with a few practice flashes of the water, trying to find the perfect lighting, until a few kids take notice and eagerly jump in front of his vision, pulling funny faces and giggling madly while he indulges them.

Sidney's not particularly fond of kids, but he recognizes a certain black Mercedes resting in the distance, inspiring this rare patience.  _Come on, come out, notice me._  He continues on letting the kids amuse themselves in front of the random flash of his camera, waiting impatiently for his heart's desire to emerge from the thin veil of fog.

"Henry..." The mayor's voice has never sounded so small. "Please, look at me."

Doing his best to fight down the tears, a puddle of salt that rests at the bottom of his throat, Henry only manages to shakes his head, keeping his gaze fastened to the window, unable to look at her, unable to speak.  _Let me out, let me out, I hate you, let me out._

Regina is too afraid to touch him, her hands clenched upon the leather edge of her seat, chewing on her bottom lip, an old habit from childhood. "Henry, please, I was only trying to... to explain why... to make you understand..."

But the reasons for her previous words are muddled and bound in the cobwebs strung across her mind. In the distance, she can hear their echoes, but can't quite grasp their noble intentions. Nausea boils in the liquid acid stirring in her stomach, a coil of smoke wrapped around her intestines, shadow images of Cora haunting the barest edges of her memory.

"Henry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Yeah, you did." Henry forces his voice not to shake, blinking his eyes several times to keep them dry, curling his fists and focusing on the physical pain of his nails sinking into the palm of his hand. "But it doesn't matter. You don't know Emma, you don't understand her because she's the opposite of everything that you are. She's good, and you're evil and everything you say is a lie. But you don't wanna believe she's the Savior and that's the only reason you haven't tried to kill her yet."

"I am not evil." Regina gazes at the back of his head, and the certainty of her statement gives him a moment's hesitation. "You want to think that because I make you do your homework, and go to bed on time, ad because I don't let you eat candy or watch television on a school night - "

"It's not about that!" Henry rips his gaze away from the window, facing her, infuriated by the insinuation. "You cast a curse that - "

"Was I also evil when I tucked you in at night and read you stories and made sure there were no monsters in your room?"

"You're the only monster here!" Henry shouts at her, his eyes glittering with tears now, his chin trembling. "You've killed and ruined everybody's life!"

" _That_  woman isn't me!" Regina shouts back at him, and she's about to go on, but the car is too stifling, and instead she's turning in her seat, unlocking her door and pushing it open, a burst of cold air that grasps greedily at her emerging form. The car keys leave an imprint within her palm, squeezing tightly as she stalks away from the vehicle and her son, letting the wind tug her in its desired direction.

It takes her a while to realize that  _yet again_  she's left her purse unattended, cellphone hidden away inside.

* * *

Emma makes it to the station, tracking mud and water down the hallway, waving a hand in greeting to a hungover Leroy, previously dozing behind bars, now groaning at the sudden flare of fluorescent light.

" _Fuck me..._ " He turns on his belly, burying his head in the moldy pillow provided for him.

"That's genuinely the sweetest proposition I've gotten all morning." Emma tugs off her jacket and slings it over the back of her chair. "Keep up the sweet talk and I just might let you out early."

"Don' wanna... so comfy..." Leroy's slurred words trickle out, like droplets of his beloved whiskey burning a path down his throat.

Emma grins at his sudden snoring, settling into her chair. In a few hours, Ruby's shift will start, and she'll let him out then. Last night he'd been inconsolable, crazed over the disappearance of his dog. Hopefully he'll be more level minded when sober, and sufficiently outnumbered.

About a half hour goes by of comfortable boredom. Emma leans back in her seat, reciting the alphabet backwards in her head, then repeating but skipping every other letter.  _Z... X... V... T... R..._

Her cellphone goes off, still trapped within wet denim, teasing vibrations across her thighs. Emma fumbles with the metal edge, tugging it out of her pocket, raising a brow at the Caller I.D. that flashes across her screen.

"Look, Regina, if this about - " Apologies for last night burn in her throat when her son's voice once again breaks across the line instead, his words shaking and forcefully squeezed between whimpers and the angry chattering of teeth.

" _E-Emma, it's me. Can you come? Please?_ "

"Kid?" Emma shoots up in her seat, feet falling from the desk to the floor with a heavy  _thump_. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

" _At the docks... with her._ " She can hear his voice nearly break on the word, as if attempting to eject Regina from his system. " _I don't wanna go on the trip. I just wanna go home. She said you... she said..._ "

"What'd she say?" She listens to him struggle to form words, fight down the tears, but all she can hear for a few seconds is him sniffling.

" _I don't feel well. I think I'm sick. Can you come get me?_ "

"Get your mom on the phone, kid, now." Emma waits, her nails digging into the wooden armrest of her chair, listening through the static background as a muffled argument takes place. She can hear the sound of a door opening, immediately slamming shut, something rubbing against leather, and then suddenly Emma can clearly identify the mayor's voice as one side of the argument.

" _Henry, you have no right -_ "

" _She's my real mom! You can't stop me from calling her!_ "

"Guys..." Emma clears her throat.

" _Hand me the phone this instant. Let's deal with this like -_ "

" _You don't care about me! Stop pretending like you -_  "

"Hey, you guys..." Emma raises her voice a little, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

" _I will not tolerate this level of -_ "

" _You're the one that's being mean! You're the one that said - !_ "

" _I know what I said! I apologized, Henry!_ "

" _You didn't mean it!_ "

" _Do not presume to know what I mean! I am your mother!_ "

" _You are not my real - "_

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! BOTH OF YOU!" Emma presses the phone against her mouth, going red in the face, veins throbbing in her temple, pulsating at the side of her neck.

" _...Miss - Miss Swan!_ " Regina's voice returns after a shocked pause. " _I - I can't even fathom what you're thinking!_ "

" _You can't say words like that Emma._ " Henry's voice sounds equally shocked. " _We never use words like that._ "

"Well, I'm sorry, but you two deserve it. Henry, I don't know what you did to provoke your mother, but quit it. You have the whole rest of your life to drive her insane, learn to spread it out a bit, don't just dump it on her in one day, geez." She can hear him about to interject, and quickly pushes on. "Nuh uh, I'm talking, kiddo. Your mother is a ridiculously intense individual who hasn't shied away from making my life a living hell, but the one thing I will forever be grateful for is her taking care of you when I couldn't. Which means we're gonna cut her some slack from time to time, starting this weekend. I don't care what kind of crazy fairytale creature you think she is, she's also your mom, so show some respect."

" _...Miss Swan..._ " The woman sounds close to fainting.

"Regina, I don't what you did or said to make Henry feel like he couldn't enjoy the trip he's been looking forward to for months now, but that is not okay. You're not gonna see him for a whole weekend and this is the moment you choose to pick a fight? Call a truce and pick this up when he gets back, otherwise I don't know why you're bothering to let him go at all." Emma glances over at the station's landline, the phone ringing off the cradle and a few flashing red lights indicating even more calls are waiting. "I'm hanging up now, duty calls. Enjoy your trip, kid, miss you already."

* * *

The kayaks push off from the docks, giggling students bumping against one another, their oars cutting clumsily through the grey waves. Sidney crouches on the pier, camera pressed up against his face, dousing them in bright flares of blue light, capturing the entire group but doing his best to pay special attention to Henry, whose distant form remains noticeably rigid, tailing behind the rest of his classmates.

"He's a natural." Sidney abandons the water's edge to hurry after Regina, camera bumping painfully against his chest. "He's really great."

She doesn't respond, silently continuing to walk back towards her car. Sidney thrusts his hands inside the coat pockets, momentarily content to simply smile and walk beside her, elated at not being specifically ordered to go away.

"Here, let me get that for you." They reach her car, and Sidney bounds forward, grasping the door handle and attempting to wrench it open.

"It's locked, you fool." Regina pushes him aside, and opens the door herself, sliding behind the wheel.

Sidney smiles akwardly, dark skin managing to conceal the heat rising in his cheeks. "Of course, of course... well, have a great morning, Regina!"

She slams the door before he finishes, shoving the key into the ignition and roughly jerking the cool metal until the car hums to life. Sidney jumps out of the way, her car backing up without warning, turning sharply and skidding down the street, waves of dirty water spewed out from either side of her vehicle.

She returns to an empty house where memories run rampant; waterfalls of hazy images and distorted meaning crashing over the banisters, spilling down the walls, sporadic lightning flashes of both Leopold's castle and her childhood home.

Silence and solitude had been her haven; tucking herself in corners, glancing every so often out the window where the rain tapped out gentle melodies, the shadow of a rider passing across the edges of her vision, glancing back down at her book, losing herself in fantasy, stealing hours before the dreaded  _click_  of heels alerted her to Cora's presence, come to reclaim her, the harsh taloned fingers clenched upon her wrist, dragging her to lessons.

She remembers the constant irritation she felt, a rising fury that wrapped itself around her heart and choked her throat, at every trickling laugh and carefree giggle an adolescent Snow White offered up to the world, small pale arms flung about her waist, dragged into playrooms or beckoned out of the library for some inane adventure that had the little girl tugging her down the hallway and up through winding towers, breathless compliments pressed against her ear, blood red lips seared against her temple, everything ferocious and gentle, delicate fingers combing through their nearly identical strands of raven hair as her stepdaughter demanded Regina speculate on how much longer before the princess would be able to catch up to her in length.

Regina would scream into her pillow, desperate for a ceasefire, every interaction with a living being feeling like the harsh strike of a match, the assaultive bang of cannonballs and stink of gunpowder, livid mosquitos biting her ears, splintered bits of wood wedged just beneath her fingernails, sharp blades slashed across her wrists.

Now, in the mayor's mansion, completely alone, the silence nearly staggers her, kicking off her heels for those quick  _thumps_  of noise, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall, inhaling the lingering scent of soap and disinfectant from the hours she spent last night removing all evidence of the sheriff's blood which had stained her furniture.

 _I didn't mean it - Regina, please -_  Emma's voice slips down the waterfall, echoing throughout the hollow estate.  _Let me stay._

Regina sighs, haunted by soft insisting lips, her legs beginning to buckle, letting herself slide down the wall until she's splayed out on the floor, tucked in the corner of her foyer, the light splatter of rain teasing the hollow silence of her manor and the encompassing town. The lights are all off, illuminated only by the natural morning glow filtered through the cloudy grey, welcoming Emma's ghost as she floats through the air, coming to rest beside Regina.

_Did you ever think I could maybe be your friend?_

Regina shakes the words away, an irritating cloud of dust and smoke, it makes her skin itch, her throat threatening to seize up.

"I have work." She reminds herself, speaking aloud to the empty house. "I have a lot of work to get done today."

Regina sends a text to her secretary, informing Agnes that she'll be working from home today.  _I don't care if someone sets the damn town on fire, do not forward any calls to my cell. Take a message, and I'll get them tomorrow._

Regina rests against the floor just a little while longer. When finally she gets the strength to stand, she makes her way to the study, fully intending to bury herself in a mountain of paperwork... or maybe just curl up on the floor again, this time with an adorable kitten to cuddle with, burying her nose in soft, ink black fur, like how she cuddled with Henry, breathing the scent of him in when he was just a baby, before he learned to judge and condemn her for the actions of another life, another woman.

_That woman isn't me. Not anymore._


End file.
